Forgiven (JD x Veronica)

Chapter 2

And yet, despite her unbridled rage, she couldn't erase the image of him strapped to his bed, pure confusion splattered all over his face. His body appearing so fragile with a thousand or so wires attached to him to keep him alive. She couldn't shake the guilt she felt from seeing him there; so helpless, as if her mind expected him to be some sort of savage beast still.

If she was being fully honest with herself, that wasn't what she expected. She expected him to still have his memories, his charm, his sociopathic tendencies; she still expected him to be the same person who loudly confessed his plan to blow up her school. She didn't expect him to be, well, normal. Not psychotic.

Veronica shook her head and planted her hands firmly into the ground, attempting to shake off her emotional baggage. She shuffled over to her toilet and flushed it before slowly getting undressed to take a shower.

. . .

It was another tremulous day in the life of Jason Dean. Now that he had found out who his ex-girlfriend was and her burning hatred for him, he didn't really have a will to live. There was really no purpose to his existence anymore. He was doubtful of ever getting let out of the hospital, and beyond that, he had no place to go.

And thus, he began to plan his suicide.

It would be simple; nothing extravagant or extreme like before. He'd just merely jump off a bridge or in front of a car. Something swift and quick. Something that would hopefully fully kill him off, instead of putting him in a coma and sending him straight back to this hell.

Maybe he'd even get a funeral. Doubtful of that, he was, however. Afterall, his father didn't even care enough to stay with him and everyone else hated him. He'd be surprised if he even got a gravestone. Or if his body even fully got buried, instead of being dumped in some ditch somewhere.

Despite his multiple therapists urging him on, attempting to comfort him by relenting the fact that he could tell them anything, he kept his suicidal ideologies to himself, for fear of them keeping him there longer than he wanted to be. He would force a smile at all of them, lying through his teeth about his desire to finish high school, get a job, and move on with life. Telling them about how his anger was vanishing and that he had no desire to harm anyone anymore.

Granted, the things he was saying about his anger were mostly true. His ire and supposed inconsolable rage he had before he blew himself had faded away. Though, deep within him, he felt an inextinguishable ball of fire. A ball of anger and resentment towards everyone and everything. To the situation he was in. To his father. To the hospital staff. To himself. A ball of anger that he had, and would continue to, suppress.

He shuffled back towards his room with the assistance of the nurses. Slowly but surely, he felt his body regenerating, building back the strength it lost. It wasn't sudden, but every so often he was able to actually use one of his limbs without it failing to do its designed purpose. It felt nice, somewhat. JD was certain it would feel a lot nicer if he had another body entirely.

As his room door shut for the night, he was subjected to another night of self-loathing and never-ending thoughts of what could've been.

. . .

Veronica's footsteps were the only thing she could hear as she sprinted into Westerburg, the remnants of the night not too far behind her.

After taking her shower (Of which she spent mostly moping) Veronica wandered into her room and collapsed onto her bed. Her parents came by periodically, checking in on her and offering her anything they thought would cheer her up. In response to their offers, Veronica would turn her cheek the opposite direction and remain silent.