Part II: "Mad As Hell" By Elisa Higgins (c) 2000 scarlett@li.net VERONICA'S DIARY *October 9, 1991* Dear Diary, It's been a long time, a really long time. I'm up at college now, a small nothing school in upstate Connecticut, studying psychology. After the baby was born I lost my ambition to go to Stanford, I lost my ambition to do a lot of things. Thankfully school is keeping my mind busy; but it's a hard process. I'm okay though, I think. Most of the time I convince myself that everything that's happened to me has happened to somebody else. Keeps me sane. Thoughts of the baby are never too far from my mind though. I wonder often how he's doing, what he looks like. I wonder even more often how he'll turn out. When I first saw him it occurred to me that giving him up was going to be harder than I thought, considering how much he looked like his father. But then I realized that that was exactly the reason I couldn't raise him. I couldn't go through it again, I had to give him a better chance. You know, part of me is afraid of him. Sometimes I think he's JD reborn. It's a horrifying thought. But like I said, I'm at school now. I'm starting over. New life . . . clean slate. The reason I haven't wrote you in so long is because I wanted to get on with things. Leave the past behind. I got sick of everything and I just didn't want to know about it anymore. As far as I'm concerned there is no Sherwood Ohio, there is no Westerburg, there is no baby, and there never was a JD. Who am I kidding right? But that's me now, that's how I have to think, otherwise it's all over. So I've decided I might start seeing this frat guy in my class, Todd. He's under the impression that he's the most charming college guy on the face of this planet. He got down on his knees and asked me out. I haven't gone on a date in ages, but I know I need to, I need to put the past to rest. He said he's going to take me to a club a few miles away from school. We'll have dinner, hang out, who knows? It might be nice. I can't hide from the world forever. *October 11, 1991* Dear Diary, So I'm going out with Todd tonight and I'm actually excited. Yeah he's full of himself, and his frat-boy friends are idiots, but he seems pretty cool. He's as far from my previous lover as I can possibly get, which is why I said yes, I suppose. So with the exception of midterms coming up, things are running quite smoothly. I try not to think too much, it's hazardous to my health. Shit, it's getting late and I'd better motor if I want to be ready for my date. Later. *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, Truth, REAL LIFE, is a whole lot fucking stranger than fiction!! It's been two Years!! 2 FUCKING YEARS!!! Oh Christ. I don't know what to do; I don't know what to say--it's amazing I'm sane enough to even think, but I need to collect my thoughts; now more than ever. Shit, maybe I should start at the beginning, God knows, I suddenly have all the time in the world. I can't fucking believe this. Okay, Friday night I went out with Todd. Everything started out fine, it was all fucking fine!! We went to the club, and things were cool, but then Todd started getting hammered, he started blabbing about he and his friends, and games they play. He started babbling about score cards, and women, and getting laid; but I was hardly listening because, for some unknown reason, my head had begun to spin. And then it occurred to me as I stared at his beaming face, at the dimples in his cheeks, at the way he was acting, that I was fucked. Yes, fucked. Or about to be. He spiked my drink. Apparently I was part of this so-called game. I was the next couple of porno points he was going to brag to his friends about. I got irate, but whatever he had slipped me took it's toll fast, and before I knew it he was helping me out to his car parked in the ass-end of space in some dark lot. Only me. Why do I get all the fuckheads?! I should have known. He practically stuffed me into the back seat of his car, and then he was on top of me, tearing at my clothes, laughing. I couldn't fight him off. He was too strong and I was too drugged. And then it happened. From out of no where the car window shattered, the door swung open, and I felt Todd suddenly lift off my body. I was so relieved to have him off of me, that it didn't even occur to me that this was an odd thing to have happen at this particular moment. Distantly I heard struggling, but I couldn't see anything. I was fading away. Somewhere in the remote corners of my brain I recognized a sound I knew all too well, it was like a firecracker going off, though I knew it was anything but. I actually felt like laughing. 'Somebody's dead,' I thought. That somebody should have been me. I wish it had been me. The door above my head ripped open and I felt the cold night air rush in and wrap all around me. Someone grabbed me under my arms and pulled me off the seat, out of the car. I vaguely felt my legs hit the pavement, and through my blurry vision I saw a dark figuring hovering above me, dragging me across the ground. Tendrils of long hair that wasn't mine dangled in front of my face. And then I was stuffed into another car. But my consciousness was gone, and at that point I just didn't care about anything that was happening. When the drugs wore off I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine in a room I didn't recognize. It was cold, dark, quiet. I was so confused, and then the fear set in. What the hell was going on?? And why does this shit always happen to me? There was a faint blue light, TV light, drifting in from down the hall. I slipped out of the bed, surprised to see that I was fully dressed. In the heart-racing seconds since I opened my eyes, every vicious rape scenario I could think of had played itself out. But from the look of things, I was untouched. It took my eyes a moment to get used to the shadows, and I found myself instinctively searching for a weapon. But the room was empty, save for the bed. So I started down the hall. No sound, the TV must have been on mute. I had this horrible feeling that I was being watched, that every step I took was being scrutinized, but the hall was narrow and I was alone. The TV was in the next room. A local news channel was flashing images of a dark parking lot, an abandoned car, a stretcher with a white sheet over it. Some part of me remembered Todd, but I was too distracted by the pounding of my heart that I couldn't even think it through. And then I saw him. In the dark shadows of the corner, completely hidden from sight, a figure loomed. I only noticed him because he moved slightly. I know I lost my breath, though I don't remember screaming. We were both still, me on the verge of collapsing, him skulking in the shadows. And then I finally asked him those stereotypical questions: "Who are you?! What do you want?!" He laughed. Kind of. It wasn't a real laugh; it was more of a scoffing, sneering kind of laugh. And it was at that moment that some remote wrinkle in my brain set alarm bells off in my head. I started to shrink inside of myself. And as I stood there, panting, my vision blurring with fear, he came out of the shadows. The pale TV light filtered over him, lending an eerie glow to his bone- white flesh. He had a mop of black hair that masked part of his face and fell around his shoulders. He raked a hand back through it, pulling it away, allowing me to see him in all his horrific glory. My expression must have said it all. "Boo," he rasped. It was JD. *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, JD is alive. How?! God! My legs gave way beneath me the moment I saw his eyes. I sunk to floor and stayed there, staring up at him, this looming demon from hell in his black trench coat, with his missing finger. And he just watched me, a twisted look of amusement plastered on his face. He was eating it up. "Darling," he said, as I sat there humbled before him. "I have been dreaming of this moment since I spread myself half way across Ohio state." I wanted to cry. His voice hurt my ears. It was a voice I had longed to bury in the recesses of my subconscious. Though, apparently, my attempts at psychotherapy were all in vain. Here was my curse standing before me once again. But how? "Bet you have a lot of questions running through your pretty little head, eh Veronica?" I said nothing; I just sat there, my eyes welling up with tears. My entire life since April 1989 flashed before my eyes. I saw the funeral, his father, our baby. I couldn't say anything; I actually had to think to breathe. It had taken 2 years to get JD even remotely behind me. 2 long years of brooding and justifying, and philosophizing, of going through the physical and psychological havoc of having his baby and then giving him up. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. JD lit a cigarette. "How?" I managed to say, "I saw you die." He took a long drag, and then crouched down in front of me, grinning. "Correction, dearest, you thought you saw me die." For a moment he looked truly jubilant, and then something dangerous moved in his face. Something psychotic. "You see, Veronica, my greatest delight now is seeing the realization in your eyes. You thought you'd won, hadn't you? Standing up there on the steps, so cool with you cigarette--I knew then that I would live for this moment. You're not the hero Veronica, you get no more one-liners, no more walks into the sunset with fat people in wheelchairs. Don't wait for any credits to role because the story's not over. You may think you're smart, but I have news for you: I'm smarter." There was fury dancing behind his malevolent eyes, fluctuating in that voice of his. After all I had gone through: forgiving him, romanticizing him, having his baby, here he was, pissed as hell . . . at me. He stood up, looming over me. He was taller, broader, stronger, his voice deeper. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, like the grim reaper. Only his face and his hands gleamed white. My eyes fell across his disfigured stump of a finger. He saw me glance at it. "Pretty isn't it?" He sneered. "That's a point for you. That and the abdomen shots. I was breathing blood for weeks." He took another long drag on the cigarette, the tip glowed orange. "My turn." He growled. His eyes bore into me; I saw his chest heaving with some sort of triumphant rage. He was on a vengeance trip. I was in danger. "How did you do it?" I asked. I couldn't believe it, I just kept seeing him over and over again--and the explosion, no one could have survived that. No one. But I had to talk to him, had to reason with him. I would play into his divine retribution game and hope that I could survive to tell the tale. I had done so much to try and erase my animosity towards him--for a time, while I was pregnant; I even felt that I had fallen back in love with him; that there was a bond between us. Somehow I had deluded myself into seeing JD as this lost soul who needed help and never got any. He became the victim, the one society had failed, had let slip through the cracks. I hated myself for not reaching out to him the way I could have . . . for not saving him. But now, here, I realized I was wrong. JD knew what he was doing. He always knew. He shook his head mockingly. "Magicians don't tell their secrets, my love. Fooled you, though didn't it. It fooled everyone. An extravagant death, a death so impossible to survive that no one would even THINK to give it a second look--it was perfecto! The extreme sure made an impression this time." He was elated. I started to slink back. What vengeful fantasies had he indulged in these past two years? What did he plan to do to me? "Jesus Veronica!" His voice kept getting louder; his words loaded with hidden threats. I looked around and wondered where we were. Where did he bring me? Could I scream for help? Would anyone come? It occurred to me that before now I never truly feared JD. I was mad at him, annoyed, I hated him, I wanted him out of my life. But did I fear him? JD continued ranting. "Do you actually think, I mean do you actually believe that you are the only one who ever wanted me dead?!?! Grow a brain, darling; I've been in this line of work for a long time. You were as gullible as the rest of them! One look, one FUCK and I had you doing everything! Just like the others. There was only one catch: I actually cared for you. We were on the same wavelength, you and I. But you betrayed me." "JD you were killing people!" "People you hated." "There's a difference between-" JD interrupted me: "Wishing someone dead and feeding them a wake-up cup full of Liquid Drainer? Oh, Veronica, you're so predictable. It's beautiful, it really is." I frowned at him. I was against the wall and he was loving it. "You know what they say, Veronica, if you want something done you have to do it yourself. But you were too chicken shit, weren't you? You needed me. Kurt and Ram spread every X-rated rumor they could about you. And what would you have done? Bitch and moan? Walk up to them in the caf, whine, roll your eyes. Heather would have skewered you by then; you were fucked without me, and you know it. Besides, I saw the pleasure in your eyes when you pulled that trigger. Only your own faults took that pleasure away from you." How could I contend with his psycho reasoning? I wanted to run, I wanted to get away. Fuck every regret I ever had about JD and I. There was nothing salvageable; he was never anything but crazy. My eyes darted all around the room; shadows were everywhere. But there was a door, next to the TV, there was a door. If I lunged for it, could I make it? Where would it lead? What if it was a closet or something? Suddenly JD swooped at me from the darkness, he got right up in my face and sneered at me, smoke pouring out of his nostrils. I half expected his eyes to glow red. "So now that I have you Veronica," he growled. "What am I going to do with you?" *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary- I may not survive this. And if I don't, I want someone to know what happened. Anyone. I'm in shock, and I don't know what to do. We're in the middle of nowhere. How do I know this? I lunged for the door. JD had his back to me. The news was still on, still rolling footage of Todd's murder. I asked JD why he had saved me, and he said: "I couldn't let HIM have MY fun." That's when I ran, I just darted so fast I didn't even feel my legs moving. Any minute I expected JD to pounce on me. My hands fell around the doorknob, twisting desperately--I opened it and fell into dark, cold night. My thoughts were so frenzied I barely had a chance to realize I had made it out. There were trees everywhere, and I just started running. My breath burned in my throat, my heart pounded--I felt like I was running on air. I didn't know if JD was following me or not, I just needed a road, a house, anything. But there was nothing, nothing but forest. I kept throwing glances over my shoulder, trying to see if JD had followed me--I expected to see him, all in black, his black coat flying in the wind like a demented bat out of hell. It was just so dark. Branches were scratching at my face, tearing at my eyes, it hurt so bad. And then I heard the stream up ahead. Momentarily I stopped, rubbing my stinging eyes, wondering if the wetness pouring down my cheeks was blood or tears. My breath was heaving; I had nothing left. That's when he tackled me. The full force of his weight came crashing on top of me and I toppled to the ground. My face smacked into the dirt, the flesh on my knees tore against the rocks and acorns beneath me. I cried out, and JD roughly pulled at me, forcing me to roll over. I could taste blood. He straddled me, pinning my arms against my sides with his legs. I had a flash of the boiler room. "Where are you going, Veronica, huh?!?" His voice grated against my ears. I felt my chest caving under his weight, I couldn't breathe, he was suffocating me. "JD wait," I gasped. "What!" He yelled. "Wait!" I cried again. "What!" "You're a," I couldn't get the words out. "I'm a what Veronica? What words of wisdom do you have for me now? Where is that stinging wit you pride yourself on, hmm? Kinda hard to talk without breath, now isn't it?" "Father," I managed to say. "You don't have time for a priest, Veronica, but I'll hear your confession if you'd like." He pushed on me harder; I gasped desperately, shaking my head. At the time it seemed like the only thing that would make him stop--telling him about the baby. At the very least he'd be curious. "You're father," No, that was wrong. I couldn't get him to understand. "My father knew, Veronica. Don't you remember that day you came to the house? Snooping around my room? What were you looking for? I wonder. Maybe you thought I scribbled down all my teen-angst bullshit in a diary the way you do? Sorry darling, I have other methods of venting. This one is working just nicely." He pressed down on me harder. I was gagging. It was now or never, I mustered the last of my lung capacity. "You're a father!" I cried. I felt him go still. He was curious. Easing up the pressure on my chest he leaned close to my face. "You're lying." He said slowly, like a cat toying with its prey. I shook my head, gasping hard. "No," I said, "You're a father, I had your baby two years ago. It was a boy, he looks just like you." He smirked, raising his eyebrows. "Creative, I'll give you that." His father never told him. "I had him by caesarian, JD, I have the scar to prove it." I tried to wriggle my arm free, he didn't let me. Instead he lit a match and pulled my shirt up to my neck to see for himself. He looked even more demonic in the flickering shadows. I watched his face study my scar; he wasn't sure what to believe, though his skepticism was obvious. He eased up on me a little more and I sucked in the air thankfully. Then he said: "You look good like that." The devil was in his voice. It occurred to me that he was staring at more than just my scar, I felt naked and helpless against him. I got nervous, my heart resumed its thudding. "The scar looks kosher, Veronica," he purred, shaking out the match. We were left in darkness. I felt his cold fingers glide against my stomach, brush against my breast. "But how do I know the kid's mine, hmm?" "You're gonna have to trust me, JD." He laughed, "You DO have a sense of humor!" He leaned in close; I could smell the smoke on his breath. "I'm touched," he whispered, sounding amorous. "You didn't abort it." I shrunk against the unyielding ground, but I couldn't escape him. His lips closed over mine, tenderly, passionately. It wasn't one of those rambunctious JD-kisses he had favored toward the end of our relationship, it was something else. I didn't protest; I was afraid he'd go back to crushing me. It was hope for me; it bought me time. Perhaps he wanted to reconcile? Maybe he just wanted closure? But he was on the edge, completely unpredictable, and I didn't know what to do. I let him kiss me. I think in some twisted way he liked the taste of blood on my split lip. Though I didn't have much choice, did I? Once upon a time I thought it was a weakness of his, his constant attempts to win me back by forcing himself on me. Some psychological dilemma, some craving for love and affection, but now I wasn't sure. He was more manipulative than I'd ever imagined him to be. I didn't even know how long he'd been watching me, planning, waiting for just the right moment to strike. It could have been years. He started sucking on my neck, his fingers pushed under my bra, cupped my breast. I flushed with some masochistic sort of pleasure. No, I could not possibly be attracted to him now, not after this. Some part of my mind was positive he wanted to kill me. If I told him that he was the father of my child, then there was just a sliver of hope he would keep me around long enough to hear the tale . . . for his own amusement. Again his lips captured mine, and I found myself kissing him back. I've since convinced myself it was out of fear. But for just a moment I know I had a flash of that first night, that night we played croquet. I remember how exciting he was to me then, my sly demon-lover. How I savored his weight above me. He was such a contrast to the petty misery that was my life. Little did I know then that he was the very definition of misery. My misery. His hands pawed at my legs, pulling at my skirt, dragging it up over my thighs. He tore my underwear. JD was a true predator. He loved the kill, but he loved the hunt more. He lay against me, and the shifting of his body gave me just enough leeway to free my arms. But he grabbed them quickly, clasping both my wrists in his one four-fingered hand and pinning them above my head. I felt his eyes on me; I tasted the copper of my blood on his lips. "If you try anything, I'll kill you," he purred. "JD, this is rape," I said. He hesitated. "No Veronica, this is love." *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, All's fair in love and war? Is that how it goes? Then I suppose JD is playing by the rules. But is it love or is it war? It can't be love. Yet it's become clear to me that as much as JD hates me (or thinks he does) part of him still believes we were meant for each other--on "the same wavelength" as he put it. It was strange being with him again. Yielding to his overpowering sex. I know it's a power trip--that he's now professed himself as the dominant one. Looking at it psychologically he wants me to be inferior, he wants to show me that he's the one in control. The one with power. But when you're there on the ground, sweating against each other, remembering how it used to be . . . once upon a time we really were partners. It's somehow different then. Not to mention I spent 9 months straight carrying his baby and longing for his company. I think he wanted to see how far I was willing to go to save my own life. He wanted to see if my pride and self-respect would get in the way. I think the bastard is pleased with this outcome. I'm weirded out, but not in the way I should be. Did you ever hear the one where the kidnapped begin to identify with their kidnappers? How about the one where the ex-girlfriend begins to fool herself again about the father of her child? No. It's not going to happen. Nonetheless, I lay there in that floating-after-sex state, but I was angry. Angry at how I betrayed myself, angry at how my body was treacherous. I felt him in my veins and I wanted to scream. JD was amused. I think he expected me to fight him, and when I did the opposite, when I moaned in his arms, he gained yet another victory. For that I hate him. He stayed above me for a few moments after we'd finished, still pinning me to the ground with nothing more than his own body. Our breaths mingled, and I felt his eyes searching me, trying to guess my next move. This was a game to him. We were no longer in high school, society was no longer the enemy. I was. He wanted revenge. I felt him smile, I didn't even have to see it, I felt him do it. And then he got off of me, and for the first time since he tackled me, since he split my lip on the ground and scraped my knees on the rocks, I was free of him. He wanted my reaction. He had conquered me, and was now awaiting the outcome of his deeds. I slapped him. I slapped him as hard as I could, and then in a flurry of movement I just started throwing my fists at him, punching at him, trying to do some sort of damage. He caught my hands and struggled with me briefly, throwing me again to the ground. But I was relentless; I was infuriated. I hated us both. If I were on the outside looking in I'd say we did belong together, that we deserved each other. But I'm not; I'm fucked. Somewhere in hell Heather Chandler is laughing at me. JD and I wrestled until I bit him; I just sunk my teeth right into his arm, determined to draw his blood the way he had drawn mine. It pissed him off, but I would not let go. I had him writhing in pain for just a moment before he finally tore me off, and I took his flesh with me. For that he smacked me hard. I hit the ground and the last thing I remember was him talking to me as if I were conscious, lifting me up, and draping me over his shoulder. *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, I woke up back in the house, but I was on the floor this time, like JD had just dropped me there without a care in the world. I was still a dirty, bloody mess. Everything ached, and part of me could still feel JD's wetness between my thighs. He was mad at me but I didn't care. Why should I? Look what he'd done. Kidnapping, rape, attempted murder, premeditated murder, he was a demon. My demon, my own personal demon. Please God don't tell me my life of popularity disorders and fashion dilemmas justified such a plague as JD. But it's not that is it? It's what I get for being stupid. JD is my punishment for Heather and Kurt and Ram. So what is his punishment? I dragged myself off the floor and hobbled into the hallway, searching for some sort of blunt object I could bash in his head with. This was the boiler room all over again. A bright light flooded my path; I squinted, blind. Instinctively I held my arms up in defense, half expecting JD to fly at me from out of nowhere, to finish what he had started. Why didn't he just kill me? Why didn't he just get it over with? "Ah! You're awake!" I heard his raucous voice before I even saw him. As my vision cleared, I realized he was standing in the bathroom under the bright fluorescent light with his leg up on the toilet. His scraggly long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he had on a black tank top and black jeans. It took me a moment before I realized what he was doing. I watched as he pulled the thread taught, then drew the needle back and pierced the flesh on his arm again. I had bitten him that badly. "You know, Veronica," he said without even looking at me. Blood was running down his pale arm. "I think you've left more scars on my body than I've left on your mind." He glanced up and raised his eyebrows, smiling like the devil. I grimaced as he laced another stitch without even flinching. For a moment I wondered how much evil JD had truly done in his life, both before and after I'd met him. "Why are you keeping me here?" I asked. He looped the thread. "I'm not finished with you yet," he replied, reaching for the scissors. I had a vision of impaling him with them. "You see Veronica," his eyes found me, dark and menacing. "I'm mad as hell, and we've only just started." He clipped the thread, but continued to hold the scissors nonchalantly in his hands. "You brought up an interesting point before, and I have to admit, I'm curious." I knew what was coming. He stepped into the doorway not two feet from me. The light threw dark shadows into his face. "So tell me, where is my son now?" *October 13, 1991* Dear diary, I have been wracking my brain. For the preservation of my own life, I let it slip that I had had JD's child. Only in the immediate aftermath has it occurred to me what a mistake that was. Once upon a time, I fantasized that JD and I were normal. That we were in love, that we were going to have this baby together. God, what a fucking idiot I was! Even if it was a fantasy, the reality is so much more fucked. I was forced to "kill" JD once, now I'll kill him the first chance I get. By telling him about the baby I wanted to throw him off his current plan of action: my slow and agonizing demise. And I did that, but now he wants something else. He stared at me in the hallway as I shrunk against the wall, idly wondering how much bigger than me he seemed. My head pounded, my knees were raw. "What a father I would make, hmm?" He said, taunting me, turning my own plan against me. "I'm not going to tell you where he is, JD." I said, finding some sort of strength in the midst of such defeat. I was going to martyr myself for my child . . . and then that child would grow up to be JD all over again, and some poor girl twenty years from now would be in my position because she had pissed him off. Like father like son. "I didn't think you would," JD replied, flashing me that grin. "But that doesn't mean I won't find him." He clipped the air with the scissors and I flinched. "What do you want with a child?" I growled, "Fatherhood would put a serious glitch in all of your lovely plans." He cornered me against the wall, "Veronica, you put a serious glitch in all my plans." I met his gaze, trying not to show my fear. We were motionless for a long moment. "You don't know how irritated I am by you," he growled, stroking my face with the tip of the scissors. I saw the shiny silver glint in the corner of my eye, my flesh tingled against the icy metal, my breath caught in my throat. JJD was enthralled by the terror he induced. "It's a pity I didn't learn my lesson back in high school." He said. "For awhile there I would have done anything for you." "You mean kill anyone for me." My defiance upset him, I could see the anger twist in his face. Without warning he scraped the scissors across my cheek, I cried out and cupped the burning flesh, blood wet my palm. Frustrated he yelled at me, or at nothing in particular, and grabbed me by the hair. I screamed, but he dragged me down the hall. "You know what I should have done that day, Veronica!?" He hollered, paying my anguished struggles no attention. I had no choice but to follow him. "I should have used the REAL bomb on my chest, and I should have taken YOU with me! Nothing would have delighted me more than to see that arrogant look on you face get wiped off by an explosion! I would have dragged you back into that fucking gym, and we would have been the best pep assembly that godforsaken school had ever seen!" He paused. "Actually, I should have beat the living shit out of you in the boiler room, and tied the bomb to YOUR chest! Oh officer," he mocked, "Veronica was sooooo upset after Heather's death-they were BEST FRIENDS you know--she decided to take everyone with her! Now THAT, would have been funny!" "JD stop!" I cried. His ranting had gotten worse over the years. And he had gotten more brutal. "Well, so the plan's changed a little," He continued with phony regret. "It's no longer a high school that's gonna blow, it's a little house in the middle of the woods. And so what if I didn't get to roast all my wonderful classmates--at least I get to barbecue you! Bet you're regretting shit now, aren't you, darling?!" We reached another room off the den and he slammed me against the wall, still clutching me by the hair--"Only this time, I'M gonna watch. Got a cigarette Veronica?" Tears were streaming down my face, "JD please," I begged. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and started to flip through them with his good hand. "Please what, my lovely?" I tried to claw at him. "You don't think these last two years have been hard for me too?!" I screamed. "You think you're the only one that is mad as hell!?? I DID love you once!! Goddamn you JD; I wanted to be with you! And then you turned fucking psycho!! You're a complete mental case--you're a goddamn murderer--and you're the father of my child!!! I carried that baby to term JD! OUR baby!! I didn't have to but I did, it was the only piece of you that I had left, and I wanted it to have a better life than you did!" "My life is grrrreat!" He sneered. "In fact, at this very moment, it's better than ever!!" I had to get to him, I knew that if I kept talking he might just listen. JD's intellect, his need to unravel motives, it was his weakness sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, he had a heart--a wounded one, but a heart just the same. I tried to appeal to it. "That day I came to your house, I was looking for something. I was looking for you. Something that would allow me to see who you were better, something good to tell your son if ever he asked." He faced me, glaring. "Touching." He growled. "Face it Veronica, you fucked up, and now it's payback." He unlocked the door next to me and yanked it open. "In you go!" He laughed, and threw me inside. Then he slammed the door shut and I was in darkness. The last thing I heard were keys jangling as they locked me in. *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, I was in here for a few hours until I heard JD again. He thumped against the door and said my name in a sneering, sing-song sort of way. "VeRONicA--Still alive?" He asked; his voice muffled. I didn't answer him. "Of course you are. I've been doing some thinking, Veronica. It would really be nice to see the child of my loins. That is, assuming you're not lying to me. You wouldn't lie to me Veronica, would you? I didn't think so. Tell me, are your parents still living in Sherwood? They don't change do they, they wouldn't move away even if you were the disgrace of the town. Pregnant out of wedlock at 16, tsk tsk. I've decided to pay them a visit, ask about their grandson, etc etc. I'll be polite of course, unless they force me not to be." I think my mouth hit the floor. He wasn't lying; he was going to find the baby, and he was going to kill my parents in the process. I had no way to warn them. My eyes started to swell. "But you're not going to come with me. I guess you know that already, don't you? Don't worry though, I've arranged for a friend to keep you company . . ." Suddenly a TV went on in my room. It was fixed in the wall above the door; I had no idea it was there. The dull light hurt my eyes at first--but when I got used to it I saw I was indeed in a cell. A cell JD had built for me. There was no way out except for the door--and it was completely locked. I looked back to the television and realized that what was on the screen was the room outside. JD must have had a video camera with him, because suddenly he was on the screen waving to me. I'd like to introduce you to your friend and mine, Veronica, if you'd just follow me here." The camera shook as he got behind it and started to walk around the room. He stopped in front of a table and aimed down. I gasped. There was the bomb. "Look familiar?" He asked off camera. "It's the same one from Westerburg, I've been saving it for you. But since I'm not a complete monster, Veronica, I gave you a lot more time than you actually deserve. You've got 72 hours on here." He zoomed in on the red numbers. "That's three days, my sweet little Stanford genius. I really don't know how long it's going to take me to fly to Ohio, talk to your parents, and find my son. If it takes less than three days, you're in luck, because I'll be back and we'll figure out some family planning. But if it takes longer," he broke into song, "Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be." Then he laughed, "Credits role, darling, you're dead. So until then, sit back and relax--I know I know, no bathroom, no food, no water, three days--what can I say, this isn't the Hilton!" He leaned into the camera again, and I found myself staring at him upside-down. "Sit tight, my love, and cross you're fingers--that's something I can't do." He held his bad hand up to the camera and searched for his missing finger with his pointer. I heard him snicker. "Good luck!" And then he was gone. *October 13, 1991* Dear Diary, The camera's been on ever since. All I have to keep me company in my last hours is a TV screen with a ticking bomb on it. The clock is at 70 hours 13 minutes and counting. I'm going to die. This is not how imagined it, I don't think anything has sunken in yet. I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. I've been replaying these events over and over again in my head, writing this imaginary diary, convincing myself that someone, somehow will help me. And yet, I know I'm doomed, that my parents are doomed, that my child is doomed. It seems that my only hope is for JD to come back--though I know he won't. I know it's over. "So JD, now that you're dead, what are you going to do with your life?" Elisa Higgins Part II: "Mad As Hell" (c) 2000 scarlet@li.net Next: Part III: "Junior"