𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 ~ 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:
"You're Cute, Denbrough."
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Heather woke up the next day with a smile on her face, even with her dad passed out on the couch and her mom somewhere, probably cheating or sleeping somewhere, her smile didn't fall. She wasn't quite sure why she was so happy, but she was willing to take it.

She quietly sung to herself as she picked up the empty beer bottles and beer cans.

She quickly threw them in the trashcan before walking off to her room to get ready.

She opened the door of her small closet, trying to present herself as bigger, just in case.

She had always hated that closet. It was entirely too small for her. She felt so.. confined. It scared her.

It reminded her of how she was confined in this small town. Heather was scared of that. Small spaces and life itself. Moreso not doing anything in her life and ending up like her parents, rotting away only to die with no one to remember her name.

Maybe that meant she was scared of failing? She wasn't quite sure.. But she didn't think too much on it.

All she knew is she didn't want to be confined.. That's why she liked the bay by the lighthouse so much.

It was so open and vast.. It went on for miles and miles. She could just watch and watch.. she felt so calm there. So powerful. Like she could do anything..

She reached over to flip the light on, shaking off the thoughts.

"Huh, odd.." She mumbled to herself when the light didn't turn on. She continously flipped the switch up and down, pursing her lips when nothing happened.

"Heather.." An ominous voice called her name from the darkness of her closet. "Heather.. Heather."

"Dad?" She turned her head, listening for his response. "Are you awake?"

All she got in response was his loud snoring.

"Heather.. come in here Heather." The  voice called from the darkness. "You'll be okay, Heather.... Trust me.."

Heather began to back up, but a hand pressed against her back and shoved her into the closet. A scream left her throat as her body slammed into the wall, cushioned by her clothes.

She turned quickly to escape, but the door slammed in her face. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a clown before she was immersed in the darkness.

"Dad! Dad! Help me!" She cried out, banging on the door. "Pl-Please!"

The voice continued to call her name, as if it were taunting her and the walls began to close in on her, causing her breathing to quicken. She sunk down the the ground, cowering against the door, her arms covering her face.

"No, no, no, no.." She repeated to herself, her hands gripping the roots of her hair tightly.

"Heather! Look at me, Heather." Two gloved hands wrapped around her wrists and roughly pulled them away from her face. "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!"