Heather's story

Heather's Story
By Varian Milagro


Chapter 1

Heather banged on the door, desperate to get inside. She whipped her head around, her long auburn hair flinging about her face. The sensation of being watched pecked at her brain and slithered down along her spine. It was accompanied with a dread that at any moment she’d be snatched up and subjected to unimaginable horrors. She needed to get indoors immediately and it had to be this house. Her own home wouldn’t do, nor would the church. Something told her that she’d only be safe here.

It made some kind of sense. This was the home of Abigail Smith, her best friend since forever. She’d been here thousands of times over the years and it had always been a place of peace and comfort. The whole neighborhood was quiet and peaceful normally. She turned and quickly scanned the area. It still looked the same. Large upscale houses with professionally landscaped yards. A place of tranquility. Yet today a sinister presence seemed to linger just out of sight.

Just twenty minutes ago she’d been determined to drive straight to Grace church to see Pastor William. She remembered that she’d been standing outside Boxcar, a roadside diner halfway between Laramie and Cheyenne and she’d had something incredibly important to tell him. It’d had something to do with her sister and her new friends.

As she’d run across the parking lot toward her car her memories faded. By the time she’d started the car she couldn’t remember why she’d want to see the pastor. She couldn’t even remember why she’d come to the diner in the first place. Had she even gone inside? She’d sat in the car for a several minutes with the engine idling as she’d tried to remember what had prompted the trip to the diner. Not only couldn’t she remember why she’d driven all the way out to the Boxcar, she couldn’t remember anything from the last 48 hours. It was a complete blank.

It was then that she thought of Abigail and knew that she needed to see her friend immediately. Thoughts of going anywhere else, the church, her home, the police, all faded. With a destination set, she pulled out of the parking lot headed to Interstate 80 west. Paranoid anxiety grew inside her as she drove. By the time she pulled into Abigail’s driveway she thought she’d shake herself to pieces if she didn’t get indoors immediately.

Pain shot through Heather’s knuckles as she pounded on the front door again.

“Just a second,” a woman’s voice shouted from inside the house, sounding annoyed. A half minute later Kathleen, Abigail’s mother, opened the door. “Well, speak of the devil. We’ve been worried sick about you, I hope you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Heather’s first impulse was to turn and flee. Abigail’s mother was strict and assertive, much like her own, and she didn’t feel capable of standing up to her at the moment. At the same time she needed to get inside before she crumbled under the weight of her fears.

Kathleen’s face softened once she noticed Heather’s distress. “Is everything alright?” she said in a gentle voice as she reached out to offer a comforting touch.

Heather jerked her arm away from Kathleen’s hand instinctively. The confusion on Kathleen’s face filled Heather with guilt. “Sorry.” Her eyes pointed toward the door jam, but focused on nothing “Is Abigail here?”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Can I come in?”

Kathleen stepped to the side. “Of course. You’re always welcome in our house, you know that.” She sniffed the air as Heather passed by and then frowned. “I ran into your mother today. She and Donna were coming out of Sensations Day Spa. They’d both had their hair done and your mother was smoking, two things I’d never thought I’d see you her do. Is everything all right at home?”

Heather’s vision blurred. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.” Kathleen had a pained look on her face. After a couple seconds she said, “Well, you better get upstairs. Abigail will have a conniption if she finds out that you’re here and I delayed you.”

“Okay.” Heather headed toward the stairs.

“If you ever want to talk I’m always ready to listen. You can tell me anything and I’ll do everything in my power to help you or your mom.”

Heather walked back to Kathleen and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

Kathleen’s hugs always reminded Heather of her mother. While they looked nothing alike, Kathleen was much more compact and wore her dark hair in a stylish bob, whereas her mom was a tall, lean blonde, they both exuded the same kind of love with their hugs.

Kathleen pulled away after a few seconds. “Are you staying for dinner? I’ll make Chicken Parmesan.”

“That’s my favorite of yours.”

Kathleen smiled broadly. “I know.” As she turned and walked into the kitchen she said, “We’re going to see a movie after dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

Heather nearly smiled herself. The idea of sharing diner with Abigail’s family was familiar and normal. The overwhelming paranoia and anxiety had dissipated significantly since entering the house and she was enjoying a relative sense of calm. It had been so intense over the last half hour that she’d thought that she’d never know peace again.

She admired the Smith’s home as she made her way to the stairs. They had a large, beautiful house which they’d had custom built when Abigail was still in preschool. Every one of the five bedrooms had its own bathroom and walk-in closet. The master bedroom had more square feet than the family room and living room of her parent’s house combined. Heather’s home was nice, she had no complaints about it, but Abigail’s home was NICE.

She paused halfway up the stairs. A new sensation hit her: dread. It differed from the paranoia; she didn’t felt like someone was out to get her, she now worried about the safety of Abigail and her parents. She had a horrible feeling that she was the danger, that no one was safe around her, her very presence put those she cared about in harm’s way. She wanted to turn and flee, but what if the paranoia and anxiety returned. She didn’t think she could live with those feelings again; thirty minutes of it had nearly undone her. But wasn’t it better to sacrifice herself than stay and selfishly put her best friend in peril?

A high pitched scream reverberated off the walls of the staircase. Heather jumped at the sound and nearly fell over.

“Oh my gosh! Where have you been? I’ve been texting you nonstop all weekend.” Abigail ran down the stairs, her golden ponytail flying about. Her hair was tied back with a bright pink ribbon. She owned over fifty such ribbons, half of which were in varying shades of pink.
Abigail threw her arms around Heather, nearly causing the both of them to tumble down the stairs. Her reaction wasn’t that surprising. Forty eight hours of zero contact between the girls was a new record. Besides the hours of sleeping it was rare for two hours to go by without at least a text exchange.

“I’m not sure. I’m...”

“Hold that thought. I have to pee and then you can tell me all about it.”

Abigail grabbed Heather’s hand and then bolted up the stairs, dragging her friend along. She let go once they were both inside her room and then she dashed into her bathroom.

Even though she’d been in Abigail’s bedroom many times—they’d been best friends since they’d met twelve years ago in Mrs. Parker’s first grade class—it still took a moment for Heather to adjust to her bedroom. Abigail loved pink. Obsessed might be a better word. Abigail was a girly-girl through and through and her room screamed it, from the pink walls with white trim to the white bedroom furniture with pink trim, to the shelves crammed with stuffed animals, many of which were pink and the pink dahlias in a white ceramic vase.

Abigail’s cat, Mr. Whiskers lay on her queen sized bed, napping. She walked over to the bed, picked up the ball of white fluff and then sat where he’d been sleeping. He rubbed up against her abdomen as she scratched behind his ears. His purr and the light classical music playing on Abigail’s stereo had a calming effect on her.

Abigail exited her bathroom, opened a small refrigerator and removed two cans of Fresca. She practically skipped across the room, her loose skirt dancing around her knees. While Abigail was as conservative as Heather in behavior and sexual mores, she was a bit more liberal in dress. She wore sleeveless blouses and skirts that showed off her legs. She also wore makeup: eyeliner, pink lipstick, light eye shadow. She took after her mother in that respect. The Smith’s were wealthy and both of their wardrobes reflected it. They did not live the spartan lives that Heather’s family did, not by a long shot.

Years ago, when the girls were in middle school and Abigail had started experimenting with makeup Heather had become quite upset. When they entered high school and Abigail started wearing skirts that showed off her legs it had almost ended their friendship. After not talking to each other for nearly a month they made up. They decided that their friendship meant too much to them to let makeup and clothing get in the way.

It didn’t stop Heather from harassing other girls at church for wearing jewelry, makeup or tight clothing. If anything she did it even more.

“Before you tell me where you’ve been, I have to ask. Have you been smoking?” Abigail handed one of the cans to Heather and popped open the other

“Why?”

“You smell like cigarettes. Like a lot.”

“I don’t think so,” Heather said, fearing that she may have. Anything could have happened since Saturday. It was all a blank.

“Oh my gosh! You’re wearing eyeliner,” Abigail shrieked happily.

“I am?” Heather’s body stiffened. Mr. Whiskers quickly hopped off her lap and ran out of the room. She hurried over to Abigail’s vanity and examined her face. Thin black lines encircled both of her eyes.

“It looks really good on you.”

“I don’t remember putting it on, I don’t remember anything since Saturday afternoon.”

“Ha, ha. April fools,” Abigail said with a smile on her face. The smile diminished when Heather didn’t return it. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?”

Heather nodded, tears rimming her eyes.

Abigail placed her hand on Heather’s arm. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was at home and my mom came into my room and tells me to go over to Bethany’s house. I didn’t want to go, but she was really insistent.”

“Who’s Bethany?” Abigail searched Heather’s face, trying to determine if her friend was setting her up.

“My sister calls herself Bethany now.” Heather scrunched up her face. “I don’t know how I know that.” Heather picked up the Fresca and opened it. After taking a small sip she said, “I remember sending you a text saying that I was going over to my sister’s and then driving to the house she shares with Victoria and Becky, and then nothing else after that.” A surge of sadness nearly overwhelmed Heather when she mentioned Victoria and Becky, nearly causing her to choke.

“You sent me a text saying that you’d arrived and your sister was more of a slut than you’d thought. I replied right away, but you didn’t text back. I called you like a hundred times. I even called your mom. She said that I shouldn’t worry about you, that you’d be home soon and better than ever. She sounded really creepy.”

Tears spilled down Heather’s cheeks. “I’m scared, Abigail. I’m afraid that my sister did something to me and I can’t remember what it is. I have a weird feeling that she’s behind the disappearance of Victoria and Becky, too.”

“We should tell Pastor William. If he doesn’t know what to do, he’d probably know who to contact. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be working at the church right now?”

“I have this week off. Pastor William took the week off to go fishing with his brothers, so I got the week off, too.” Heather wasn’t sure how she knew that. She had no memory of being given the time off, yet she knew it to be true.

“You could talk to Jonathan,” Abigail said.

“The youth pastor? I doubt he’d believe me.”

“Of course he’ll believe you.”

“I’m sure that he’ll believe that both my mom and sister started smoking. He’ll believe that I have partial amnesia and that I’m wearing eyeliner, but he won’t understand what it means. He doesn’t know me like you or Pastor William do. He’ll just think I’m being a paranoid teenager going through a phase.”

“I saw your mom at church on Sunday,” Abigail said. “She was smoking in the parking lot with the other smokers. My mom saw her coming out of Sensations this morning. She was wearing a dress that showed off half her boobs and she had Donna with her.”

“How was Donna?” Heather asked anxiously.

“My mom said that it looked like Donna had painted her fingernails and had her hair styled. She said that Donna looked embarrassed at how your mom was dressed. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Can I stay here until I think of something? I don’t want to be alone.”

Abigail squeezed Heather’s arm. “You can stay as long as you like, you know that. You can stay in here with me. My bed is still more than big enough.”

Heather hugged Abigail. “You’re the best best-friend ever.”

“Do you remember anything else about the last couple days? Anything at all?”

A vision of a goblet flashed in Heather’s mind, filling her with terror and her belly with an intense heat. As she tried to recall where she’d seen the goblet and its significance, the heat intensified and rose up into her chest. It felt like it was going to burst out of her and scorch everything around her. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it tonight. Let’s just pretend like everything is how it used to be. I’ll probably feel more like talking about it tomorrow.” The fire’s intensity diminished, but continued to linger.

Abigail tried to hide her disappointment, but they’d been friends too long for Heather to be fooled by the fake smile. “Well, you probably haven’t heard that Laurie and Michael are getting married. They announced it at church on Sunday.”

“So, he finally proposed. Laurie’s been waiting long enough. When’s the wedding?”

“Abigail!” called Kathleen’s voice from the bottom of the stairs.

“What?” Abigail yelled back, nearly deafening Heather.

“You haven’t cleaned the downstairs bathroom yet.”

“I have company, Mom!”

“Heather is hardly company. She’s practically family. I want it done before dinner.”

“Fine!” Abigail yelled. In an indoor voice she said to Heather, “She drives me crazy. Why won’t she hire a maid like Dad wants? I mean it’s not like we don’t have the money.”

The maid issue was a complaint that Heather had heard many times before. Kathleen thought that it was a waste of money and Abigail thought her mother wouldn’t hire a maid out of spite. The two had been fighting about the issue for a couple years. It had gotten worse when Abigail had graduated from Laramie High School last spring and the number of her daily chores had more than doubled.

Heather helped Abigail clean the bathroom. When she and Abigail entered the spacious lavatory loaded up with cleaning supplies Heather first thought was that the room had already been cleaned. It shined like the rest of the house. Still, they scrubbed every surface. When they finished Mrs. Smith inspected the bathroom and found a couple streaks on one of the mirrors and a hair behind the toilet. Once Abigail fixed the discrepancies her mom allowed them to go back upstairs.

A couple of hours later, after Abigail’s father, Gordon, arrived home from work they all sat down for dinner in the family’s beautiful dining room. It was so similar and yet different than dinner at Heather’s home. For both families it was a time for communing and thankfulness. Whereas Heather’s family ate on a wooden table that had been purchased at a church auction and with dinner plates purchased at a garage sale, the Smiths dined on an artisan Oak table and used dinner plates that individually cost more than all of the Drake’s dinnerware combined. They also liked to dress up for dinner. Gordon wore a suit and tie while Kathleen and Abigail wore pretty dresses. Heather wore a plain brown dress that covered her from neck to ankle. The difference in lifestyle had kept the two families distant as a whole.

“Did you hear that Pastor William took the week off?” Gordon said as he loaded his plate with seconds. Heather was always amazed at how much he could eat and not gain weight. He was a couple inches under six foot and had a solid looking body.

Kathleen cast a worried glance Heather’s way. “He deserves some time off, don’t you think?”

“There is something very strange going on in the church. Two families torn asunder one week after both of their daughters go missing. And then there’s the issue of Heather’s own family. Not the best time to be abandoning your post, if you ask me.”

Heather’s belly throbbed as the strange heat grew within her body once again.

Kathleen stabbed at her salad. “Later might be a better time to talk about this.”

“Heather, you don’t mind me talking about this do you?” He barely looked at her before continuing on his rant about Pastor William’s delinquencies. If he had he might have stopped talking for Heather didn’t look like a person in control at the moment. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles bone white.

“You’re being paranoid, dear,” Kathleen said once Gordon let her speak. “It’s a coincidence is all. I don’t see any connection between Susan and Jackie leaving their husbands and Kathleen. The way their husbands treated them, I’m surprised Susan and Jackie didn’t leave them before.”

“And what about their daughters, Victoria and Becky. From what I hear, no one has heard from them for over two weeks.”

The room spun around Heather as dark images swam through her mind, images of lines and circles painted on concrete, of robed figures with sinister intent. A searing heat fought its way up her throat. She hoped that it was just her dinner, but feared that it was something else, something dangerous.

“Are you alright?” Abigail asked Heather.

“Quick, grab a trash can, Abigail,” Gordon said. “I think that she’s going to be sick.”

“You can be so insensitive sometimes,” Kathleen said. “Couldn’t you see that you were upsetting her with all your talk?”

Once Gordon stopped speculating about her mother and the others, the fiery pressure within Heather began to ease. It subsided slowly, but by the time the other three had changed into casual outfits and were ready to depart for the movie theater to see Tim Burton’s new movie, “Oz: The Great and Powerful”, she felt much better.

Movies were a regular family outing for the Smith family. Despite still being full from dinner, Gordon insisted on buying soda and popcorn for everyone. Heather enjoyed the movie—it was filled with great actors and beautiful special effects—until Theodora, the beautiful young woman in love with the hero, was betrayed by her sister and transformed into a hideous wicked witch.

Heather burst into tears at the sight She held her face in her hands and sobbed loudly as tears poured down her cheeks. Abigail and her mother helped her out of the theater. They sat her on a bench and then sat on either side of her. The warm pressure in Heather’s gut throbbed as it grew in strength.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Kathleen asked as she rubbed Heather’s back.

Heather feared telling the truth. When she’d seen sister betray sister on screen, the strange images had returned with a vengeance. They were fuzzy and for the most part indistinct, but she’d seen herself inside a circle of robed figures, figures with familiar faces that she couldn’t quite place. Bethany had been inside the circle with her and had forced her to drink a foul smelling, viscous liquid that promised to corrupt her from within and make her just as wicked as the witch from the west. How could she tell them that? They’d surely cast her out and until Pastor William returned she had nowhere else to go.

“I’m worried about Jimmy and Donna; they’re all alone with our mom. I’m afraid that she’s going to do something bad to them.” While true, it was still a lie of omission and it filled Heather with guilt.

“I’ve known your mother for years and while she’s been acting a bit strange of late I wouldn’t worry too much. Sometimes, when a person has been repressing themselves for a long period of time they will go to the other extreme once they free themselves from the chains they’ve bound themselves with. Your mother loves Jimmy and Donna and while she may have gone overboard in the fashion department, she’d never do anything to harm either one of them.”

“I hope you’re right, Mrs. Smith,” Heather said. “Could you keep it a secret that I’m staying with you anyway?”

“Of course. Do you think you’re up to seeing the rest of the movie?”

“I’m going to stay out here, but you don’t have to stay out here with me,” Heather said to Kathleen. She knew that Abigail would stay in the lobby with her.

“All right.” Kathleen pulled a twenty from her purse and handed it to Abigail. “In case you want a snack.” She stood and then walked back into the movie theater.

“Do you want to call Donna and make sure that she’s okay?” Abigail removed her phone from her purse.

The words “Call me” floated through Heather’s head as she looked at Abigail’s phone. It was a woman’s voice and sounded like it was coming from far away. She started to reach for the phone, but then stopped herself. “Donna doesn’t have a phone, neither does Jimmy. They can’t get one until they can pay for it themselves.”

“You could call the house phone.” Abigail quickly dismissed that thought when she saw the distress on Heather’s face. “Don't worry, I'm sure we’ll think of something.”

When they got home from the movie the girls went straight upstairs. Abigail loaned Heather a long, flannel nightdress, a white one with little pink ribbons. They crawled into bed and then Mr. Whiskers lay down on top of the covers between them. Heather looked forward to sleep, hoping that it would give her a break from the dread that had been hanging over her all day. She was asleep within minutes.

Heather's story - Chapter 2