Work Text:
Every other week, Cheryl walks to a specific bench. Only very late at night, when no one will see her. If anyone did, she'd blackmail them so hard they wouldn't even think about telling.
If no one's around, she'll sit down quietly. She'll breathe out, and look at the pretty flowers. Then she'll scream out loud.
She'll scream for her brother. She'll scream about all those stupid people asking questions, showing some small fake concern before they continue on their stupid lives. She'll scream about that weakling called Betty, whose Jezebel of a sister hurt her brother. She'll scream about that snooty Veronica, and how condescending she is. Oh God, how Veronica made her blood boil, made her want to rip that little brunette's head off.
When she's screaming, she hates everyone. Even her brother, for dying on her.
These scream sessions are good for her. It keeps Cheryl together. For the rest of the day, she's the Queen, cool like a breeze. No one can break her down.
The blistering hate stays locked inside, where it belongs.
Sometimes her mother asks about Cherry's late night walks. Cheryl tells her not to worry.
Cheryl's 's perfectly healthy.