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"we all нave secrets,"⠀
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"That's besides the point." McNamara snapped from the other side of the bedroom. Her small figure paced back and forth across the spotless carpet. "We all have secrets like crushes, or who cheated on a test,—" she turned to face the other girl.⠀
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"Not, 'me and my ex killed three people.'" the cheerleader's voice was soaked in anger and emotion.
"How could you—It was Heather, Veronica. You can't just—"⠀
"Stop yelling at me." the brunette suddenly piped up from where she sat on the edge of McNamara's bed. "You don't. . .you don't even understand. Heather, it wasn't that simple. I couldn't exactly call the police."⠀
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"Yes, you could have!" her voice cracked. Veronica had wanted to come by to talk after school. The blonde didn't know what she was expecting, honestly. Yet, it wasn't this.⠀
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"Mac, he could have killed me. He could have broken up with me and done something stupid." Veronica admitted solemnly.⠀
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Heather pursed her lips, cheeks flushed with rage. Her heartbeat was beating in her ears. "Well, I hope your Bonnie and Clyde days with a fucking school shooter were worth it. My best friend is dead."