sixthiterationlogs | same as it ever was; [OTA]

WHO: Veronica Sawyer
WHERE: Front porch of bungalow #22
WHEN: BACKDATED to September 19
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Closed to new threads

Dear Diary,

I am 18 years old and I am a horrible person.

The words just came out, and now everybody knows: I'm a murderer. I'd like to give you some line about it being a big relief, that my inner turmoil has finally been soothed, but I just wish I'd kept my fucking mouth shut. I'm stuck in this place with an apparent rogue's gallery of broken people, but it still bothers me that they look at me differently now. Like an asshole, I'd spun some prom queen fantasy that only Cougar knew wasn't true, and in true masochistic fashion, I've blown it up in my own face.

But that isn't even the worst of it.

Diary, you exist because today I got a box with my name on the top, and inside were three beautiful, fat packs of paper. So much paper. If I'm careful, if I force myself to write small, it'll last me a long time. There's enough to share, more than enough to donate some to the cause of record-keeping. But I don't want to share.

I told you, I'm a total fuck.

Is this simple greed or sabotage? It's like I don't even know myself anymore, Diary. But I do know this: If I woke up tomorrow back in Sherwood, Ohio, I'd really miss some of the people here.

Oh, and I missed my 18th birthday. I don't even know why I care.

Frustrated, Veronica clamps her fingers hard around her pencil with a low huff and resists the urge to throw everything across the yard. She may be a greedy shit, but the paper is too precious, and too much of her time was spent in sewing it into a little journal to treat it like garbage.

So many things are frustrating her anymore, it's difficult to pinpoint a single one as being the cause for how she feels. The water situation definitely doesn't help, Heather at Veronica's shoulder when she looks at her wilted and greasy reflection every morning, congratulations, I didn't know it was possible to fall this far. Vanity rearing its pointless, ugly head.

Settling the little book and pencil in her lap, Veronica leans back against the steps of the house she shares with Cougar and Jake. What would be really incredible right about now would be a drink. It's kind of, sort of her birthday, right? You'd think the benevolent gods of this place could provide some libations.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The boots confuse her until the mention of the meeting, and then Veronica figures she gets the gist. It's on the tip of her tongue to say aloud her very particular thoughts about Jake's outburst, but Cougar's got his own ways of dealing with these things.

"That it was," she agrees as she accepts the pencil and folds it into the center of her homemade journal. "Looks like we're a whole village of fuck-ups." She hasn't decided yet if that's comforting or disturbing.

He's not sure whether he ought to feel better or worse knowing that he's surrounded by people who have taken justice into their own hands so often or whether he's happy that he knows he will be protected. The children who think this is all some reason to kill each other worry him, but he will always have a knife to defend himself and the household. "Not fuck ups," he insists. "Just broken, a little."

Which had been the whole cause of the fight with Jake, but he's starting to learn. "There are some things that should not have been said," he admits with a grunt. "But luckily, he did not tell all."

Some days, it was easy to imagine that Jake's mouth was a completely separate entity that did whatever the hell it wanted without a thought for the rest of him. For anybody else, it would have been a flimsy excuse, but with the way he never seemed to stop talking, Veronica had to wonder if it was a truly uncontrollable compulsion.

"He shouldn't have said it," she reiterated, just to be clear what side she fell on regardless. "I mean, as sob stories go, it's not the worst to have blurted out to everyone you know, but he still shouldn't have said it."

Cougar shrugs, because he's annoyed at Jake for babbling, but if it weren't for his talkative friend, then Cougar would never be able to get anything out because Jake's the one who communicates it for him. "It's why boots are on the roof and pants are in the stove," he replies calmly, though beyond innocent pranks, Cougar doesn't intend to be mad at Jake or give him the cold shoulder. If anything, he'll probably go out of his way to thank him with some dinner.

He gives her a calm, quiet look as he watches her. "He did not say the worst," Cougar promises, and it hadn't been his alone to share. "I will heal. Will you?"

"Me? Oh yeah, no question," Veronica is quick to say with a scoff, an exaggerated flip of her hand and shrug of one shoulder as if to broadcast both that she is completely fine and completely full of shit. "I'm young and resilient, after all."

And it had been her own doing, outing herself. She only wishes it had made her feel even a little better to confess. In retrospect, she's beginning to see that this thing will probably always be with her, a knot in her chest that diminishes but never completely dissolves.

He tips his head to the side in order to give her a firm look that speaks of not believing her, and that he's about to go poke at her. "You may be young and resilient, but this is hard to process," Cougar points out, and this is murder. It's not like a bad day. If it's going to affect her, then it's much more serious than that.

"What happened to you is not normal," he says gently. "It should not be easy."

"Yeah, but what can I do about it?" Veronica asks with a helpless little wave of her hands. "It's not like I can make an appointment with a shrink who would probably have to turn me in to the police anyway. I talk to you and I just try to get on with it."

She does wish, though, that she hadn't made herself a curiosity. She'd gone from the nice young lady to the teen murderess in their midst.

"You could learn to get it out in other ways," Cougar feels compelled to point out with a shrug. "Free run, like Jensen and I. Or training? When you sweat and you move, you don't have time to think." Each of his words is careful and measured. With English being his second language and words coming with difficulty to him, he has to take his time when he has conversations like this.

"If you keep moving, you can stop thinking."

"Frank offered to give me some self-defense training," Veronica says. "I don't know, I guess he's paranoid that a hulking monster is going to creep out of the woods one of these days and gobble me up."

She arches a pointed eyebrow at Cougar. Frank is definitely not the only one here who gets paranoid about her well being.

"But, I mean, I guess it could be good. It's something to do, at least."

"Frank is a smart man," Cougar praises, because he thinks the man is a good friend and that his thoughts and values align with his, even though they are not usually everyone's. "You should take him up on it." And yes, she is right. He is worried that something is going to come and without the weapon he's used to, he needs to be in top shape. He and Jake should start running again, if only to keep in shape and ready.

"Jake is a good dummy to train on, too," he offers. "I am fast, but not strong. He is strong and quick. Good at fighting, even if you do not expect."

"One step at a time, I think," Veronica says, even though there's definitely a part of her that would like to beat up on Jake a little bit right now. "I'll keep it mind, though." For those days when he's really annoying her.

"So I realized today that I totally missed my eighteenth birthday," she says, glad enough to change the subject from her apparent inability to look after herself. "I don't even know how I feel about that. The fact that I forgot about it, I mean, not that it happened. Back home it would be this big deal, but I'm actually not really sorry that it wasn't."

He knows that they've only met a few months ago, but still, Cougar still feels within his rights to lean over and cup her far cheek with his palm so he can draw her head in and press a kiss to her temple. "Happy birthday, chica," he says before he lets her go, turning to give her a long look, a touch worried about her having missed a big birthday without getting something more.

"We can throw a party," he offers. "I think Jake, he would like to decorate it."

"Gracias, mi amigo," Veronica replies, and gratefully leans into the kiss. It's been really unexpected, this connection she has with Cougar, but she's glad for it. He's probably her best friend here, and what a world away from her last one.

"No," she quickly says with a shake of her head and lift of her palm. "No, no, I'm fine. If you really feel compelled, you can help me work on my atrocious white girl accent. I don't need a party."

He snorts and doesn't say anything to comfort her about her accent because she's not wrong. He just isn't the type to accuse her of it (at least, not her, since he has no trouble giving the other Losers' hell for their atrocious Spanish, especially seeing as Jake seems to willingly not try to get a better accent).

"If you're sure," is what he says, instead, because he likes a good party, but if she doesn't want to call such attention to herself, he can also understand. "And don't feel bad about the meeting. You did what you must."

same as it ever was; [OTA]

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