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This is Veronica Sandlers wedding. And this is what we call a setting. In one of those big White House recreations you see in the suburbs of who knows where. The color theme of this wedding is white and a pale pink, the kind you see on that old, flower pattern wallpaper from the '80's in your grandmas bathroom. An then you see Veronica. Veronica lying face down on the marble floor, a small hole in her side pouring her life out right infront of my eyes. And I look up, Sydney standing at the top of the staircase in the foyer. She's bawling her eyes out. The rifle in her dirty hands drops and clatters down 20 some stairs and lands, spinning. And then I see Brendon come into the picture, the scene. Bowtie still around his neck and white button-down shirt in his hands, he's zipping up his trousers. I glance down a Veronica, who now, like Sydney is bawling her eyes out. Poor, sad veronica.
And then looking at me, looking at Sydney, Veroinca says, "Shit, my dress, its ruined."
I take a step back as her blood pool widens. And Sydney, now she's screaming and stomping around making all kinds of a fuss.
"You dammit, that bullet is supposed to be in you!"
Funny how that works out.
But right now, all I can think about is how Veronica's blood is now surrounding my new leather shoes I bought just for this occassion. I feel a hand grip the hem of my Dolce and Gabana suit, and all I can think about is how Veronica's blood stain won't come out now and I won't be able to return the suit.
"Ryan, come here," Veronica gags, wiggling her pointer finger at me. As I kneel down, the smell of pennies, of Veronica's blood invades my nose.
"This is your last chance you know, to tell me you love me."
Me, I'm feeling sick from the smell of blood and I can't seem to concentrate on anything else. Veronica's eyes close, and now I'm staring at the aqua shimmer thats coated on her lids.
"If you can't tell me that will you atleast tell me how whe got here? How I ended up like this?"
One last time, I look up. Sydney is now spread across the maroon carpet, the kind that feels like velvet when you firt put your bare feet on it. Sydney the self-centered bitch. Sydney the one whos life is so boring that she had to shoot her best friend and fuck her best friends fiaance to spice it up.
So with all of my strength, I lift 123 pound Veronica off of the marble floor thats covered in her blood. Now Veronica's blood is on my hands and on my Dolce and Gabana suit that still has the tags on it. I drag her and her 12 pound wedding dress outside into the yard. Here world, come see Veronica Sandler, shotgunned and bleeding her guts out on the freshly mowed lawn.
And I walk away.
My mind is no longer with the wedding, the crab cakes, the pretty boquets, the guests dialing 911. I'm in my car, driving away and covered in blood. I see an ambulence wizz past a few miles down the road.
And I whisper, "I love you,"

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