There, at the end of the hall, was Heather Chandler. She was draped in a pink flower-patterned nightgown, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, with a red bow neatly tied to one side. Heather had always been the epitome of high school royalty, exuding an air of confidence and control that intimidated and fascinated everyone around her. Her presence was commanding, her posture was always perfect. On top of all her unmistakable piercing blue eyes.
“Al?” I heard her question in disbelief as if she couldn't fathom that of all the people to come here, I would be one of them.
“Heather… is that really you?” I took a step closer, but she stepped back, shocked.
“You… you can see me?” she said, covering her mouth in utter repudiation.
“Yeah, I see you, but why? You're dead. You killed yourself, you—” As I trailed off, trying to make heads or tails of the situation, I was cut off by Heather, who stormed towards me angrily.
“NO!” she shouted. “I didn't kill shit! That bitch poisoned me. Her and that loser boyfriend she had.” There was anger in her voice; so much she had wanted to say but no one to say it to. Now, she could air out all her frustrations.
“Wait, killed you?” I sat silent for a few moments, stewing over all this new information along with the shock of seeing Heather once again. “What do you mean, killed you? Your parents found you dead, alone with a suicide letter. Who could have killed you?”
Heather clenched her fist in anger before she spoke.
“Veronica Sawyer,” she said bitterly. “She humiliated me in front of everyone at my party. Then, when she came the next day with that freak J.D. to apologize, they poisoned my drink.”
The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of her accusation sinking in. I remembered Veronica and her strange relationship with J.D., but murder? That seemed beyond belief. Yet, here was Heather, vehemently insisting on it, or whatever she had become.
“Poisoned? But why? Why would they do that?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Revenge, jealousy, who knows? Veronica wanted to bring me down, to humiliate me, and J.D. was just a psychopath,” Heather spat out. “They planned it. They made it look like a suicide to cover their tracks.”
I took a step back, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. Everything I thought I knew about Heather's death was a lie. The police, the investigation, the suicide note—it was all a cover-up for murder. My head spun with the implications. I dropped my flashlight and placed one hand on my head and another on my heart as my mind shattered. After a few moments of silence, Heather spoke up.
“So why the hell are you here? I thought you would at least have the decency to not come here and belittle me,” she grimaced at me while crossing her arms over her chest.
“Heather, I wasn't here to mock you. I’d never—” I cut myself off before speaking again, picking my words carefully. “I just wanted to look for my girlfriend… well, ex-girlfriend, but long story short, she and her friends went missing, and I felt like it was my fault.” I finished speaking, and Heather let out a scoff she had been holding in.
“Wow, Al, another ex! You're a broken record,” she stated, amused.
“Oh, so even beyond the grave, you're still an asshole,” I retorted.
“Yeah, and beyond the grave, I still look better than you,” she clapped back, now placing her hands on her hips and leaning back slightly. I placed my hands on my head, annoyed by her behavior.
“Are we really doing this right now? I can, for some reason, interact with you as a ghost, and you're more interested in bickering as usual,” I said, exasperated.
Heather’s expression softened slightly, but her defiance remained. “What do you expect, Al? I’m stuck in this boring ass house, with a lot of pent-up anger”
I sighed, trying to steady my racing thoughts. “Look, Heather, I’m sorry for everything that happened. I didn’t come here to argue with you. I just need to find Ruby before something bad happens to her.” I attempted to walk towards the stairs to leave, but Heather moved in front of my path.
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“Al, wait!” She put both hands up as if she were a crossing guard and I was an oncoming car. “Help me get revenge on Veronica and J.D.,” she said pleadingly, in the most vulnerable tone I've ever heard her utter.
“Revenge? What do you mean, revenge?” Heather simply stuck her thumb up and slowly moved it past her neck while making the worst cutting sound possible. “Not happening,” I responded, attempting to keep moving forward, annoyed by her suggestion. But she stuck her ghostly hands out, which passed through my chest. I jolted back, shaken by the sudden coldness I felt coming in contact with her.
“Al… yesterday I saw Ruby and her friends come in here—” As soon as she said this, I cut in.
“Did you see where they went, or—” I spoke excitedly, but Heather cut me off.
“They went into my room to write their dumbass messages, so I went into the study but heard someone come in threatening them and then they all left… Al, if you help me with Veronica and J.D., I can help you find them,” Heather's desperation turned to persuasion, and I pondered what she had said but stood my ground.
“I’m not killing for you, Heather. Regardless, J.D. is already dead. They found his body in the river behind the school. Police thought it was another suicide… but now I'm not too sure.”
Heather's face twisted in frustration and confusion. “J.D. is dead? That freak deserved worse, but Veronica… she’s still out there. She needs to pay for what she did.”
“I get it, Heather, I do. But revenge won’t bring you peace, and it certainly won’t help me find Ruby,” I said, trying to reason with her. Heather grew more agitated with every second Veronica walked free.
“Oh, come the fuck on, Al. You're seriously fine letting that murderous skank roam around this town? Who’s to say she’s not still out there killing more innocent people? You could stop her, but it's too damn inconvenient for little old Alejandro.”
Heather’s words cut deep, her frustration and anger palpable. We had a complicated relationship when she was alive, and I could easily tell she was trying to manipulate me. Despite that, I couldn’t help but feel like she had a point.
“Ugh… Fine, Heather… But I won’t kill her. We’ll gather enough evidence to lock her away for good. In return, you help me find my friend. Deal?” I extended my hand towards Heather, hoping to strike a bargain.
She stared at my hand for a few moments, her ghostly form flickering slightly as she hesitated. Finally, she exhaled heavily and reached out to shake my hand. “Ow, fucker!” I yelped as a sharp, burning sensation seared into my palm. I pulled my hand back and looked at it, seeing a red mark burned into my skin. “What the fuck was that for?”
“I didn’t do shit,” Heather exclaimed, angry with my accusation. She glanced at my hand, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mark. I began making my way downstairs, Heather closely following when I saw something I didn't notice my first time on the base floor—a huge metal door that was locked shut.
“Where does that door lead, Heather?” I asked, pointing to the imposing barrier.
She shrugged before speaking. “Well, it's supposed to lead to the basement, but for some reason, I can't pass through it.”
First, I placed a hand on the door, it was completely frigid. Then I looked closer at the door, spotting multiple keyholes. “Do you know where the keys are?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Heather sighed before responding, “Beats me,” and rolled her eyes.
“Do you know if—” I began, but Heather cut me off, visibly annoyed.
“Holy shit, is this 20-fucking-questions? Who cares about the door?” she snapped.
“Why do you have to be such a dickhead all the time?” I rebutted, feeling my patience wear thin.
“Why do you have to get so offended all the time? I swear, it's like there's a 20-foot pole up your ass,” Heather retorted, placing her hands on her hips.
“Ugh… remarks like that one are why we stopped talking and why you were killed,” I stated in a matter-of-fact tone, mimicking Heather's hands-on-hips position mockingly.
“Excuse me, man whore,” Heather stood, arms crossed, clearly not happy with my comment. But before I could respond, I saw the headlights of a car shining through the windows. Both Heather and I went silent, then stared at each other, then at the window.
The headlights grew brighter as the car approached the house, casting long, eerie shadows across the room. I crept towards the window, keeping low to avoid being seen. Peeking out from behind the tattered curtains, I saw a black sedan pulling up to the front beside my car. The engine cut off, and for a moment, everything was still. The driver's door opened slowly, and a figure stepped out, cloaked in darkness.
“Heather, do you recognize the car?” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the shadowy figure.
She floated closer, squinting to get a better look. “No… it’s not anyone I know. But something about this feels… off.”
The figure moved towards the trunk, opening it with a creak. I strained my eyes to see what they were doing, but the angle made it difficult. Suddenly, the trunk slammed shut, and the figure started towards the house, carrying what looked like a crowbar. As the figure grew closer to the fence I was finally able to recognize who it was.