His Little Monster

Show no weakness

Hey everybody! Thankyou so much for taking time out of your busy day to read this mess of a story!

I will warn you that because the movie/musical this story is based off, there will be murder, suicide, coarse language, mentions of eating disorders, and implied sexual content (No I will not be writing explicit smut... Sorry!)
If any of this upsets you feel free to find another great story to read!
There will also be terrible grammar and possible spelling mistakes and slow updates. (Just a forewarning)
Anyways Happy reading My lovelies!

(All of these characters belong to creators of Heathers the movie and musical!)

The school halls were quiet and empty as I arrived at school. Generally, I was always here before other students, so I had a chance to read quietly in the library for a while, away from all the sneering people that criticized me endlessly from over my shoulder. Usually, though, there were the occasional 'geeks' winding through the halls aimlessly with messy hair and coffee stains on their clothes. Today was complete silence.

I walked down a familiar hallway, my footsteps echoing in the hallways as I stopped in front of a certain locker...
locker 243.

Heather Chandler's locker. The locker I had spent so much of my time at; this was where we all stood sneering and judging innocents who walked past with their heads held down and hugging their books to their chests. This was where Heather Chandler snapped at me countless times to shut up as I tried to voice my opinions, and my pathetic self had obliged with begging for forgiveness with an almost automated apology.

It started to sink in that I would never have to put up with that again.
 Never again...

I relived my memories with my eyes shut tight as I ran my hands along the locker but froze as I heard a commotion in the distance. I stared into the blank space, trying to figure out where the communion of voices lay when I saw the first sign of civilization coming from a tall figure across the hallways, whistling as he took long strides towards the auditorium.

I knew this person from multiple glances at lunchtime. This was Veronica's puppy love, or more well known as the guy that pulled a gun on Kurt and Ram in the cafeteria.

Dressed in a long trench coat that flowed behind him as he walked, I felt the strange urge to talk to him. Something about him showed a type of ambiance that was screaming 'Weirdo'. Not a typical person I would talk to, but I felt drawn to him.

Maybe it was the way he looked, or how his eyes had a dull, shining glint to them. Maybe that's why when he turned to me with those glaring hazel eyes, I stared at him back. He offered me a smile, but it didn't look right. He seemed too happy, had he not heard the news that his queen was dead? Next thing I knew, I found myself in front of him as he held out his hand. "Greetings and salutations. The name's Jason Dean."

"I know your name," I stated, ignoring the hand that was offered to me. Jason shrugged before pulling his hand back. "And you must be Heather Chandler?" My eyes widened in shock as I stared at him. Surely, he must have been joking if the smile that rested on his face was any indication. "Ha-ha..." I spat distastefully. "Very funny... We both know Heather Chandler is dead." Jason raised his eyebrows in amusement before gazing towards the uproar that was growing increasingly louder as time went on.

"Maybe the old Chandler is," he started, turning his attention back to me. "But the new Chandler's reign has just started." I blinked as I tried to figure out what that statement could mean, but Jason offered no further explanation as he dug his hands back into his trench coat, indicating the conversation was over. "I'll see you soon... Heather," and with that, he was gone, sauntering back down the hallway, leaving me alone.