Chapter Text
April 24th, 1989
I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill myself.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my father.I want to kill my fa
Jesus Christ, I hate that man. Why does he have to destroy EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE JUST BY BEING THERE!?!?!?
He ruins everything with a shit-eating grin on his face and a bottle of beer in his hand that I wish I could break and jam into his neck until he’s bleeding out and his body is flat and cold on the ground. Why does he have to come home so early sometimes!? Why does he even bother coming home at all? He should just die in a ditch after getting way too drunk so I can LIVE MY LIFE IN PEACE WITHOUT WORRYING ABOUT THE NEXT TIME I CAN WEAR SHORT SLEEVES OUT IN PUBLIC WITHOUT THE BRUISES HE GIVES ME SHOWING!!!!!!
The urges to blow my brains out right in front of him or maybe even dangle from the ceiling in my room until I’m found by my dad while he’s drunk out of his mind are getting worse with each day I spend hating my life in this house. Maybe if I kill myself and he finds me, he’ll regret ruining everything good in my life. Though, if I do kill myself, I'll never see Veronica again, and who knows how she’ll react if I died. Ronnie is anchoring me to this pathetic planet, and when she leaves me or dies, is when I decide I will die too. I worship her like a Goddess, and I will do anything for her, even if it means living when I’m not sure I can stand to do so for much longer.
What led to this? Right—, uh..., me and Veronica had just gotten back from that whole Heather Chandler tribute thing and we went to watch some T.V., but Ms. Fleming happened to be doing an interview with almost every local news station (and Heather Duke was trying to sneak into the frame to be noticed by passersby, I guess...?) so we shut that off and Veronica started talking about how she imagines Chandler’s mom would keep her room like a time capsule as if she were still living (I sarcastically remarked that her rug would need an immaculate deep cleaning, bad idea.), and how she felt terrible because although Veronica hated her, Chandler was human, and we killed her. She asked if I felt any remorse, and I couldn't answer because I heard the familiar sound of keys jangling and my father’s voice from the doorway.
I frantically told Ronnie we should go to Dairy Queen, but she said she wanted to meet my dad father although I protested multiple times.
He came into the living room telling me he scored us himself another contract and that he wanted me to go to the nearest warehouse store and buy some more bullshit so he and his crew could bring down another rundown hotel, and when I said I was going out, he told me to get rid of Veronica. She was definitely uncomfortable, as she made an excuse about her mom making dinner so she could leave. I wish I had an excuse like that, but I have to live with the man. I think she’ll want to have a conversation about whatever the hell is happening between my dad and I in the near future, and she’ll probably expect me to be honest about it all. But can I really bring myself to do so...? I’m aware she’ll definitely comfort me, but I don’t feel I’m worthy of her kindness and understanding. I’m broken—, I’m a terrible person who won’t amount to anything in my pathetic excuse of a life, but I know she sees right through it all and will kiss me until I forget what I’m spiraling over. Or maybe I’m just fantasizing, I’m not sure.
I wish my mom was still alive to protect me from my dad father. He was nicer when she was around. But he changed so much by the time we reached Texas that she just couldn’t take it anymore. The last thing I remember about her is the way she smiled and waved at me with a content, yet somewhat sad look in her eyes just moments before that decrepit library exploded and crumbled.
I still get nightmares about that moment. I felt so ... terrified? Petrified? Frightened? Traumatized???? Are any of these the right word to describe how I felt in that instance???
I can remember everything from that day so clearly. It was late march, 1981. I was nine. Nine, and I’d been moving every few months since just weeks after I’d turned 7. My mama drove us to that demolition site in almost complete silence, aside from the radio playing some music that was popular in the later 70s quietly. I was sat in the backseat, of course, mama was always worried I’d get hurt on accident. Mama said we were just visiting papa my father dad father so we could give him his lunch that he’d forgotten back at the house. I’m not sure how I didn’t question the lack of a lunchbox in the front passenger's seat, but I was younger, less open to the idea that the world could be cruel and against you from the moment you’re born. But quickly after she died, I had begun to understand.
Mama told me to wait by the car and look for papa my father and ask him to take me home, mama told me that she loved me, and that she wished she could hold on long enough to be there and witness my accomplishments. She kissed my forehead with a sad smile and gave me a lingering hug before she walked off. I wailed when she waved at me through that broken window, and I sobbed even louder when nobody seemed to care she was gone just seconds after the deafening sound of the bomb going off.
And now, mama’s spirit follows me around, either comforting or berating me. She can keep the new hallucinations of Heather Chandler company until I join them in the afterlife.
No—, mama will be content in her afterlife, Heather Chandler and I are hell bound, for sure. Maybe I’ll test my theory tonight, we’ve some spare rope in the backyard, one of those skills I’d written about being taught before can come in handy soon. :-)
Until I do end my pathetic life—, I’ll just have to stay in this shitty house and slit my wrists with the dulling razor blades under my mattress until something remotely interesting in my life happens.
Someone, please get me out of here. Or provide me with any ways to rid myself from this world ... preferably painless, I’ve experienced too much, I cannot bear to inflict any more long term pain on myself.
And kill my father when you get the chance, too.
Bye.
Hopefully Veronica will call, I miss her.
Does Veronica even want to be around me anymore after today? Will she be upset with me for not letting her know more about how terrible my dad is? Will she leave me? I don’t want her to leave. She was meant to be mine. I can’t lose her. We were meant to be together. She can’t leave me. Please, whoever is in charge of ruining my life, don’t take her away from me, too. Not this early, anyways.
... Okay, goodbye for now.