white oleander

      Veronica stared at Chandler, stunned. The squeaking in her ears turned into a loud ringing that drowned out all other sounds around her.       “You… what?” she asked, barely making her numb lips move. Only one thought stuck in her mind, playing over and over like a broken record: “Let it all be a figment of my imagination! Let it all be…”       “I love you,” Chandler held out a crumpled scarlet Ipomea flower covered in black, clotted blood. Veronica’s eyes darted to it and she recoiled involuntarily. “I will die without you! Literally die! I know I haven’t been nice to you, but… but, Veronica, please!”       “So all this… God, you made my life a living hell just because you cared too much about the opinions of people you’ll never see again after graduation? It’s only a few fucking months later,” the anger rose inside her in a crushing wave. Veronica pulled her hands away from her face and flicked the flower to the ground, irritated. “Every day you’ve made my school life utterly unbearable! And you say it was all because you loved me?”       “But you and I were friends at the beginning of the year,” Heather’s eyebrows rose pleadingly, “didn’t you enjoy that time? I mean, we were close and…”       “We were friends while I was your lap dog,” she said, shaking her head sharply and letting her hair fall down over her face. “While I obediently bullied whoever you pointed the finger at. Need I remind you what happened when I dared to refuse? You pointed the finger at me! That doesn’t sound like friendship, Heather… You were just using me!”       “Oh my God, you’re still using that freak’s words! You’ve been broken up for a few months now… What, you still haven’t found the time to get that noodle out of your ears?” snorted Chandler ironically, and then, realizing it, her face changed dramatically. Nervously licking her lips, she leaned closer to look Veronica in the eye. “I don’t want to use you… I really love you! What better proof of my sincerity than the fact that I could die from a single 'no' from you?”       She, swallowing, shrugged uncertainly in response. As far as she knew from the news, this disease couldn’t lie, so Chandler’s love was truly sincere. Too bad that love didn’t make her a good person. But… Veronica’s lips curled in disgust; after what she’d done, should she even talk about it?       “Look, I know you don’t hate me,” Chandler felt her hesitation and made another desperate attempt. Fingers with scarlet nails grabbed Ronnie’s chin and pulled it up insistently. “I know you liked me too, Sawyer!”       She cringed noticeably. Oh yes, Heather knew… and not just her, but half the school. It was on those diary sheets that had spread through the school like wildfire last month… Had Heather done it too?       Or rather, was there any chance that she hadn’t?       “And if so, then I have a chance to survive,” Heather continued, with a voice shaking more and more with fear. Her fingers dug painfully into Veronica’s skin. “I just want to live, Sawyer! Please give me a chance… If we go somewhere where we don’t have to look back at anyone, I can… I can pay you back.”       “Give me time to think, please,” she forced the words out, feeling that this whole thing was already more than she could handle. Pity, anger and guilt mixed in her head to a bitter mess; the ringing in her ears became overwhelming. How she wished she could just hate her… “I need some time, okay?”       “I have very little,” Chandler suddenly sobbed, and that was the last straw.       Veronica, unable to take it anymore, turned around and stormed off.       Ronnie curled up on the bed, clutching her pillow and staring blankly at the wall. When she closed her eyes, the scarlet Ipomia flower covered in blood was there again. The same blood she’d spent nearly an hour and a half rubbing off in the shower, scrubbing her already clean skin with a brush.       She sighed shakily and wiped the tears from her face. She had to do something, but she had no energy left. Did she really have a choice? She had to say yes or Chandler would die and that would be on her, Veronica’s, already not so clear conscience. She sobbed loudly and turned onto her back, pressing the pillow to her face.       Whatever she decided, she’d already lost anyway. If she said yes, that word would bind her to Chandler tighter than any chain; the damn disease would take away her freedom of choice, forever. And if she said no, she’d have to live with the constant guilt that pressed harder and harder on her chest every day, never letting her take a deep breath…       She shivered again. Throwing the pillow aside, Veronica struggled to get out of bed and went to the window. She needed a breath of fresh air… just one small breath of freedom before she made a final decision.       She didn’t know where she was going, her feet just led her along the street, through the empty cars and houses with dark, hollow windows. The cold night wind helped to bring her thoughts into a faint sort of order, and so Veronica was not surprised to see a familiar house ahead of her. Where else could she have come at one in the morning?       Nothing had changed in two months, except that the wild roses planted along the fence were almost completely leafed out. His motorcycle was still parked against the ivy-covered walls; the dim light in the upstairs window was the same as ever.       He’d never changed the bulb…       Veronica walked numbly to the door and stopped on the threshold, suddenly frozen. Her hand hesitated over the doorbell.       They had carefully avoided each other since their breakup, hurrying past each other in the crowded corridors of the school. But here she was, on his doorstep in the middle of the night… for what? To dump a difficult decision on him? To hear that she had the right not to lay her life on the altar of salvation? Or to get a murder indulgence from him?       Oh, J.D. could easily give her that: he already had two dead bodies on his conscience…       On their consciences.       Ronnie lowered her hand and slowly backed away from the door. The decision was clear: she had to turn around and run from here, straight to Chandler’s house. She just couldn’t bear another death on her conscience….       Suddenly a light flashed in the window next to the door, it seemed to be the kitchen. His hunched black silhouette showed in the illuminated window. She couldn’t see his face, but for some strange reason her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Biting her lip, Veronica stepped forward and knocked on the door.       She just needed… needed… she didn’t know what exactly, but she needed something.       There was silence outside the door. Then, she heard shuffling steps. The thin strip of light through the crack flickered and disappeared.       “It’s me,” Veronica blurted out quickly, not giving herself time to hesitate. “Can we talk?”       The knob began to turn down hesitantly, but stopped halfway and returned to its place. There was a terrible pause. J.D. sighed heavily, and his fingers slip from the doorknob. Her throat tightened with a rush of emotion.       “J.D., open the door… Please?” she repeated, no longer hoping for anything.       “Go away, Veronica,” his husky voice finally came from the other side of the door, “we have nothing to talk about.”       In the silence that followed, a switch clicked deafeningly; the lights went out. The sound of footsteps fading quickly. A few moments later, the upstairs window was dark and lifeless too.       For some reason, Veronica tentatively pulled the doorknob, but the door was, as expected, still closed.

***

      Her heart pounded in her chest. J.D. didn’t want to see her anymore, and he’d made that very clear. So Veronica shouldn’t have climbed the ivy-covered tree, shouldn’t have crept up the old branch to his window, and definitely shouldn’t have tried to open it, hoping he hadn’t fixed the lock.       Fortunately, it was still broken.       Ronnie climbed onto the windowsill, took a breath, and looked around. The room was completely dark; the thin crescent of the moon behind her only made the shadows in the corners thicker. Carefully, trying not to make a sound, she jumped to the floor.       “What the fuck are you doing here?” came his voice, crackling with restrained anger, from the back of the room. Veronica winced and turned around, finally able to see his silhouette hidden by the shadows. J.D. stood with his back to her, his hands clenched on the table; his shoulders slumped, seemingly even more than usual. “Do I have to tell you again? Get the hell out of my house!”       “I’m sorry,” she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and took an uncertain step toward him, “but I really need to talk to you. Please!”       “I don’t want to talk to you about anything, Ro…Veronica,” he stammered, and his voice suddenly shook, " especially not about that bitch.”       “You already know? How?”       “Saw it. Heard. Who gives a fuck?” he replied rudely, finally turning to her. His eyes glowed feverishly in the darkness. “Just go away, Veronica! Don’t make me throw you out by force.”       She shivered uncomfortably and backed away. J.D. had been scary and mean before, sometimes — but never to her.       “What’s wrong with you? You’re not acting like yourself,” her voice trembled badly.       “Whoa… Should I be? You dumped me like a trash! But I’ve accepted it,” he stepped forward sharply, his pale, sweaty face finally peeking out of the darkness. Veronica gave a startled gasp. “And I was hoping we’d done with it. Now you come to me for… what? Advice on your love life? Here’s my advice: tell her to fuck off and watch the bitch die. Happy now? Now get the fuck out of my life!”       She sobbed uncontrollably and quickly put her hands over her mouth. He was right: she shouldn’t have come. It had been an absolutely stupid idea.       “I’m sorry,” she mumbled weakly through her fingers, stumbling backwards. J.D. turned away, bowed his head, and hastily hid his hands in the pockets. “I’ll go…and…and…”       Her voice trailed off, and Ronnie shut herself up to keep from crying in front of him. She took another unsteady step backwards and her foot suddenly slipped. Unable to keep her balance, she fell awkwardly to the floor. Her hand hit something wet and sticky.       “Oh, it’s just an accident… What are you doing?!”       In one quick movement, J.D. was at her side. His fingers grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the door. Veronica gasped in pain and tried to break free.       “I said get the fuck away!” he growled angrily, his face suddenly contorted in agony. He pushed her out of the room, and before he could slam the door, he bent over in a painful convulsion, his hands clasped over his mouth. Something thick poured onto the floor. J.D. fell to his knees, gasping and clawing at his throat with his short fingernails.       Veronica, swallowing the lump in her throat, raised her shaking hand to her eyes. Her palm was covered with blood and white oleander blossoms.       “Are you happy now? I told you to leave,” J.D. spat hoarsely, rising heavily from his knees, “so you wouldn’t have to see all this… mess.”       “What the fuck, J.D.?” she turned her horrified gaze to him. Her heart pounded deafeningly in her ears. “What the fuck! You’re dying!”       “So what?” he shrugged indifferently and wiped his mouth with his hand.       “Why are you dying?” she eagerly stepped forward and cupped his face with her blood-stained hands. “Who did it? Can I do anything?”       “Why do you care?” J.D. sighed wearily and shook his head, trying to pull away. “We’re not together anymore, you don’t have to care about me!”       “Tell me who… Please!” her voice trailed off and she fell silent, lowering her head sharply. His gaze grew warmer.       “If I say, what will you do to her, darling?” he asked with an sad smile, gently hooking her chin and tilting her head up.       “I don’t know,” her lips quivered, “I’ll drag her here and make her change her mind! I don’t want you to die…”       “Well, I don’t really want to die either, you know,” he shrugged with an awkward chuckle, “it’s just that I’m probably going to die anyway. So why complicate things?”       “What do you mean?”       “If I don’t tell, I’ll die,” J.D. paused, licking his dry lips and continuing reluctantly. “But if I tell you then you’ll think it’s some kind of trick again and you’ll hate me for it. So I’ll die, too.”       “Why me…” she frowned, confused, and then everything finally clicked into place in her head. Veronica jerked back quickly and stared at him wildly. “Oh my god… You too! Are you fucking kidding me?”       “I wish I was, but…” he waved his hands guiltily. A hysterical laugh escaped her lips.       “So now I have to decide which one of you has to die?” her shoulders trembled again, this time from barely contained laughter. “So, I can either kill you both, or I can choose who dies… Wait, hold on! One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy… Pffff, fuck it!”       Shaking her head, she walked past him into the room on unbending legs. When she reached the bed, she collapsed exhausted. She buried her face in the pillow and laughed silently.       “Well… you choose which of us lives,” he stepped closer and sank to the floor beside the bed. “I suspect your choice will not be the asshole who killed two of your classmates.”       “Oh, well, I have such a great choice, J.D.! My murderous ex-boyfriend and the fucking bully who made my and my friend’s life a living hell!” she giggled wickedly, then turned to him and stopped laughing. Her eyes glared at him, narrowed in anger. “I hate you both.”       “I told you this would happen. But, you know, it’ll make me feel a little better knowing that bitch is going to die too,” J.D. caught her gaze and grinned crookedly.       “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Ronnie asked, ignoring his words; a deadly fatigue suddenly overcame her.       “A couple of weeks after we broke up,” he raised his eyes to the ceiling, looking at the web of deep cracks with no interest, “remember when I tried to talk to you? You flinched away from me with that look on your face…and I just chickened out, my love.” He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “It’s one thing to die keeping at least a little hope that… you know. It’s different to die knowing for sure that you hate me. That no one in this goddamn life has ever loved me enough to choose me.”       J.D. fell silent, pressing his lips into a thin, nervous line. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence; the clock downstairs could be heard ticking loudly, measuring the rest of the night in seconds.       “Only one will die tonight,” Veronica finally muttered weakly. He stirred and looked at her questioningly. “And it won’t be you.”       “What? Why? But I thought…” J.D. stopped talking and stared at her, lost.       “Because love is a horrible, pointless, and completely irrational bitch,” she shuddered, hastily covering her face with her hands; her voice was even muffled. “So you will live and Heather Chandler will die. That’s my decision.”       J.D.'s face lit up with incredulous joy, “…you chose me?”       Veronica nodded curtly, not daring to speak again.       “Thank you,” he laughed hoarsely, rising to his knees and clumsily pressing his lips into her closed palms. She sobbed and wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him against her with sudden strength.       “Thank you,” he breathed out again and kissed her neck and shoulders that were shaking with tears. “I love you! I love you so much…”       “The worst part is,” her voice broke. She took a deep breath and continued, trying not to burst into a cry, “The worst part is that I love you too.”