Heathers The Musical One Shot

Being a Heather wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened this school year. Never did you imagine that you'd spend your senior year in a blue blazer, sitting with the schools almighty but you certainly didn't imagine you'd fall for the new kid at school and end up accessory to murder.

You had instantly fallen for JD, he was the new mysterious student who didn't take shit from the jocks, but it was soon prevalent that he was far worse than that. He spoke of horrific things as a joke, and if that was all you'd have likely overlooked the whole thing. But with the death of Heather Chandler at your hands, you begun to feel worse and worse. At first you didn't link him to it, yes, he was there, but you handed her the mug that killed her. However soon after with the deaths of Kurt and Ram, it was undeniable he was a cold-hearted murderer and wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

You tried to bail from the relationship, but you couldn't. He terrified you and you knew you had to stick it out until you had an out, sadly that wasn't yet. Everyday you had hoped that he wouldn't come in, or his dad had decided to move again, but to no avail.

It was no different today. You felt the fear chill your bones as you walked through the school, hoping to not bump into him but as you hit the corridors you felt completely different. On every locker, on every surface was the same flyer. A picture of Heather McNamara lay on it, with various points arguing how weak of a person she was and lastly suggesting she should just follow in the footsteps of the other three and kill herself. It made you sick to your stomach, but as soon as you held one of the flyers in your hand, you had a gut feeling of who was behind it.

Doing your best to rip down the flyers from the wall as you went, you marched towards JD's locker. There he was, his dark jacket cloaking him as he admired one of the sheets of paper with the yellow clothed Heather on it.

"What the hell have you done?" You shouted thrusting the stack of flyers at him, so he could see his work.

"I didn't do it," he laughed at your annoyed expression.

"Then why are you laughing?" You spat back.

"Because whoever did it is a freaking genius," he smirked.

Your expression dropped. If he didn't do it who did? You racked your mind until you thought of Heather Duke, she was sick and cruel enough to do this to someone she once deemed as her friend.

"At least with this, once we kill her people would question her suicide," he laughed.

With that you snapped. You pulled your hand back, throwing it forward to slap his cheek forcefully.

"Don't you dare. You've gone too far now," you hissed. "If you hurt anyone else, I will tell everyone what has happened. I don't care if I incriminate myself, but someone needs to end your sick fantasy."

A smirk hit his lips as he looked down at you. It sent a shudder down your spine as he corned you against the locker, forcing his arms out to block any escape.

"And finally, some passion," he smirked. "Don't worry Love, I won't hurt your little friend. You will though, it'll only be time until you do."

A lump moved into your throat. Maybe this wouldn't be so easy.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.

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