Time: 14:10. Location: Psychologist's office, Hoover High School.
"When I count to three, you will come back to me, Veronica. Understood?"
The girl on the couch nods.
"One... Two... Three."
Veronica opens her eyes slowly.
Her gray gaze drifts, anchoring on the ceiling fan. Her mind struggles to untangle the blurred images that surfaced during the hypnotic trance.
"Welcome back. Did you see anything new?" asks a soft, male voice.
The girl turns to the school psychologist. From his leather armchair, he offers her his most reassuring smile.
Gordon is a slender man with delicate mannerisms. Looking at him, one immediately doubts he could survive any kind of physical altercation. That "vulnerability" is perhaps what makes him such a good psychologist. None of his patients feel threatened or oppressed by him.
On the contrary, they appreciate him. It's the reason why the turtleneck sweater he's wearing was hand-knitted by one of the students.
Veronica recites her visions, just as she has in past sessions:
"A burning building... Rain... Blurred silhouettes... A theater curtain... A choir of children singing... The beating of a drum... And a mirror reflecting a dozen faces of me... That's it."
Veronica avoids mentioning the most gruesome image.
A younger version of herself, practically a little girl, dancing ballet on a puddle of blood.
Veronica figures that if she mentions such a thing, they would call her father or put her on a watchlist.
Gordon nods.
Instead of trying to decipher what the visions mean, as they have attempted before, the psychologist drops a more direct question.
"Does your father still refuse to talk about your childhood?"
Veronica nods.
"Dad says it doesn't matter anymore, that it's better this way. That it's a miracle we survived the car crash, and he's happy with that. What does it matter if I've forgotten everything before it? We still have the present and the future."
Even though she is just paraphrasing James's words, Veronica hurts.
She feels robbed of years of her life. Years of love and happiness that are impossible to recover. That is why, against James's wishes, she chose to meet with Gordon in an effort to clear the holes in her memory.
"What if he's right?" Gordon asks, his unhurried smile unwavering. He rests a hand against his clean-shaven jaw. "What if forgetting, instead of being a curse, is a blessing? I know many people who would love to have what you have, Veronica. Does the truth really matter that much?"
The girl remains silent for a few seconds before answering.
"Dad taught me that a painful truth is preferable to a comfortable lie."
She isn't just speaking as a daughter defending her family's values. She is also speaking as the treasurer of the student council and an exemplary student.
To the teachers, Veronica is an honest, trustworthy girl. To her peers, a nerd, but also someone incapable of stabbing you in the back.
"I understand. We will continue exploring your psyche in our next session. Just remember that sixteen years is a very short time in this world... Take it easy."
"Thank you, Dr. Gordon. See you next week."
Veronica stands up and leaves the office.
As soon as she crosses the threshold, the girl puts on a friendly smile.
Wearing that mask, Veronica greets the teachers and classmates she passes in the hallway. She looks like the typical American girl. Pretty, trouble-free, and so bland that it's easy to lose her in a crowd.
Her little brother, Jason, always tells her she would make a fantastic poker player.
Upon entering the student council room, her expression melts into something more tired and natural.
Veronica wants to crash on the couch and lie there for several minutes, but her plans are derailed by the sound of an argument.
Next to the coffee maker are Clarissa and Stefan. The former is pointing a dictatorial finger at the latter.
Clarissa has the airs of a wild beast. And not just because of her lion-like blonde hair, but her attitude.
At first, the football team categorized her admission as a mere formality in a female inclusion campaign. Which was partly true; the principal had advised pushing gender parity in all areas.
But after Clarissa broke the arm of a player from an opposing team, her teammates started to view her with more respect. And later, with fear. Realizing that same disproportionate fury could easily be directed at them.
Stefan is the exact opposite of Clarissa.
The student council president is a petite boy with light brown hair, short stature, and a vaguely effeminate face that nevertheless has half the female student body in love with him. He is simply a cute, confident guy.
Unlike Veronica, whom many consider obnoxious, Stefan is capable of getting along with everyone, even when his round-framed glasses make him look like an even bigger nerd.
However, any trace of confidence Stefan might show is ground to dust against Clarissa's words.
Veronica asks herself how two people so wildly different can have been together for so many years. She doesn't even try to guess the reason for the fight; Clarissa gets angry over any trivial thing.
Veronica coughs to make her presence known.
Clarissa crosses her arms and faces Veronica with an annoyed glare.
"Can't you see we're in the middle of something, Vera? Get lost!"
Veronica flashes her best business smile.
"My name is Veronica. And we are in the student council room, not a pre-marital dispute clinic. Perhaps I should call a teacher to help us clear up the matter?"
She glances sideways at Stefan. The president keeps his eyes glued to the floor, preferring to ignore the situation.
Veronica returns her attention to Clarissa.
Or rather, the blonde forces her to meet her eyes when she grabs her by the collar of her shirt and lifts her up.
Since Clarissa is taller than Veronica, the latter is forced onto her tiptoes. But even under such a threat, Veronica's conciliatory mask remains perfectly in place.
The athlete's lips curl upward, baring every one of her white teeth.
"You're a very brave piece of shit, you know that?" Clarissa's words are chewed up between her biting smile.
"Manure helps fertilize the soil. I'll take that as a compliment."
Clarissa barks a single laugh and lets go of the blouse collar. She looks over her shoulder, shooting Stefan a we'll talk later glare.
When the quarterback girl leaves, Stefan lets out the breath he'd been holding.
"Thanks for the help, Veronica."
Veronica adjusts her shirt collar and faces the president. Her gray eyes now look like solid stone.
"Break up with her."
Stefan offers an embarrassed smile. It's clearly not the first time Veronica has advised him to break up with Clarissa.
"Trust me, when you get to know her, you realize deep down she's a good person," Stefan says.
"Break up with her," she repeats, walking over to the coffee maker on the counter.
"It's not that simple... We've been together for years."
"Break up with her," she insists, pouring herself a cup of dark coffee.
"Have you ever been in love?"
Veronica takes a few seconds to answer.
"No."
She turns and takes a sip of her coffee. After savoring it and gasping slightly from the caffeine kick, she asks, "Would you kill for her?"
"Where is that coming from...?"
"Answer the question, Stefan."
Stefan steps up beside her, hopping onto the counter to sit. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, takes off his glasses, and begins to clean the lenses.
"It's one of those moral dilemmas, right? Like whether you'd kill baby Hitler to prevent World War II. Honestly, I don't know if I could... What about you? Would you kill for a loved one?"
Veronica thinks of her father and her brother. She imagines them staring down the barrel of a mugger's gun.
"Yes," she answers without blinking.
Stefan laughs. He clearly thinks the girl is joking. And how could he not? No normal person would answer a question like that seriously.
Veronica, as far as she can remember, has never felt any qualms about murder.
She understands it's illegal, and that killing innocent people is bad, but imagining herself doing it doesn't generate any repulsion. It took her a while to realize that thinking this way is strange. But she learned to hide that callous side—a facet she doesn't consider all that peculiar anyway.
Stefan still being in love with Clarissa, however... That seems crazy to her, and entirely worthy of Gordon studying it.
"Help me with the reports," the president says, eager to wash down the awkward moment with a little work.
"I finished them yesterday."
"You're a lifesaver, Veronica. Can I treat you to some pizzas at Mario's, then?"
"Clarissa will kill you if she sees us."
Stefan's smile takes on a mischievous hue.
"Then let's make sure she doesn't find out."