Darling Iris

Would you say that you’re a typical teenager?

“I don’t think I would,” she explained to Wow Girls journalist, Jessica Partridge. “I want to be the best, y’know. I can’t be the best if I let myself be distracted by typical teenage problems.” 

Do you ever worry that you come off as too masculine when you’re not on the ice?

“I’m sure that everyone can see that I’m a girl,” she laughed at the question. “But no. I don’t think that playing hockey and being feminine are mutually exclusive. I’m not less feminine than any other woman who plays sports.”

Are you ever concerned with those stereotypical teen girl issues like grades or school dances?

“Well, considering that I’m still in high school, I better be worried about my grades. Other than that, hockey takes up most of my time so I can’t even think about things like school dances.”

Have you ever had a boyfriend? Would you ever?

“Have you seen hockey boys? Well, you’d smell them before you even had the chance,” she joked. “To answer the question, no I haven’t. Of course I would if the right one asked me but so far…” 

When do you feel the most feminine?

“It might seem weird but I feel the most feminine when I’m on the ice. My grandma always said that femininity is knowing your power and using it and I think that’s a great motto to go by. I’m not less feminine because I play hockey, I’m more feminine.” 

If you got to choose, which pro team would you play for? 

“Los Angeles Sirens, 100%,” she answered almost immediately. “They’ve been my favorite team ever since I started playing. I know all the players, I got so many posters on my wall, my room is covered with purple and silver. If I ever put on that jersey, I’ll know that I made it.”

Can we expect to see you at the Olympics next year? 

“I mean, I would love to,” she laughed. “If you can imagine, it’s a dream to represent Canada on a global stage, but especially when the games are so close to home. But of course, nothing is guaranteed. All I can do is keep playing and hope to see my name on that roster.”

So even if she isn’t the type to splurge on makeup or lose her mind over a guy, she’s still a teenage girl. She still has goals and ambitions and works hard to get what she wants. If you ask us over here at Wow Girls, Heather ‘Hotshot’ McNeil is a role model for any girl. Whether they’re athletically inclined or not, any girl can look at her and see that there’s power in being a woman. 

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Was it too late for Heather to admit that she didn’t know what she was signing up for? And she wasn’t just talking about the team. Coaching in general was harder than she imagined it was going to be. Some might think that after twenty six years of playing the sport, she’d know everything she needed to know about hockey. Well, those people would be wrong. 

She was never an everyman. She wasn’t a full picture thinker. All she ever thought about on the ice was how to get the puck in the net and how to get past everything that stood between them and that goal. Anything that was happening behind her was none of her damn business. 

But now that she was the coach, it had to be her damn business. It wasn’t like anyone else would make it their business. She couldn’t just delegate all the defensive planning to Puck. She couldn’t just neglect half the team. That wouldn’t make her a very good coach. 

Not that she was a fantastic coach as it stood. She wasn’t delusional enough to say that she had it all figured out. The girls have been making progress in some aspects. Their drills have been improving. Laura K. accusing anyone who’s late of being a Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater stan has been working. Heather still didn’t know what that meant. 

She knew she shouldn’t be too hard on herself. It was her first year, after all. It wasn’t like this was something she’d been training her whole life for. Nope, she trained her whole life to play hockey, not coach it. She knew how to make a winning team from the inside, she just had to be a good player. Easy considering she was a good player. This, on the other hand, was a whole different ball park. 

It didn’t help that her schedule didn’t magically clear up now that the hockey season started. She still had to focus on her main job. Teach classes, grade homework, make lesson plans, answer every single parent’s email no matter what time they sent it. She still had to go to physical therapy if she ever wanted her leg to feel even marginally better. She still had to go to normal therapy if she was trying to prove to everyone that she was okay. And now, she also had hockey practice. 

She was surprised she even found time to eat and sleep. She was surprised she even found time to think most days. It seemed ridiculous how busy she was. The only opportunity she really got to sit down was during lunch. 

She’s been electing to spend them in the teacher’s lounge. After one too many students tried to interrupt the only thirty minutes of peace she got during the day, she decided to hide in the one place where they weren’t allowed. But of course, that didn’t mean that she’d be alone. 

“Mind if I join you?” Wanda sat down on the seat next to her before she even had a chance to answer the question. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Heather gave her a polite smile as she unwrapped her lunch. She knew it was small. A sad sandwich, an apple, some carrots, and a single wrapped piece of cheddar cheese. Barely enough to get her through the next few hours but it was the only thing she could manage most mornings. 

And naturally, compared to the one Wanda was pulling out of her tote bag, it looked even more pathetic than she initially thought it was. Well, it’s not really fair to compare the two. Wanda was a woman who seemed to have her shit together and Heather was one who was still trying to pick up the pieces. One had all their ducks in a row and the other put all their eggs in a basket that had been smashed against the ground. 

“So, how’s the team going?” Wanda asked as she opened one of the containers she had brought out. Salmon and rice. It was simple, really. Still had more substance than what she managed to pack for herself. 

“Well, how do you think?” She joked. “I might be new to this whole thing but I think it takes more than a few practices to fix a team like this.” 

“I can imagine,” she agreed. 

“Like, I know I should remain positive but I don’t know how we’d win a single game with only eight players.” Heather shrugged, still staring and the floppy sandwich in her hand. “And not even eight good players either.”

“Well the good news is if you win one game then you’d beat the jackass they hired last year,” she pointed out while mixing her rice and salmon with a fork. “I’m sure no one at the school is expecting a championship team.” 

“But what’s even the point of running a team with only two alternates?” She asked. “One girl gets injured or gets sick and we don’t have a team anymore. Besides that, the majority of those girls are going to be playing the whole game which isn’t sustainable at any level.” 

“I’m sure they’re also aware of their circumstances,” Wanda let out a slight laugh. “Not every team is going to be a winning team and it really has nothing to do with anyone. You can’t summon more players from the pits of hell, sometimes you just gotta enjoy the ride.” 

“Well, I ain’t the ‘enjoy the ride’ type,” Heather sighed as she took a bite from her sandwich. “And surely, they must’ve known that when they hired me to coach a team that went 0-10 last year.” 

“The sports department is probably hoping that you can change their fate or something,” she shrugged. “But in case you haven’t figured it out, it’s going to take a miracle to whip some of those girls into shape.” 

“Forgive me, but I don’t even know why half of them show up,” she raised her hands in defense. “They couldn’t give a single shit about hockey but it’s not like I can do anything about it because we don’t have anybody else.” 

“If you’re talking about who I think you are, it’s because they move in a pack,” she joked, opening a smaller container that held some type of cucumber salad. “Laura plays hockey so you didn’t need to tell the rest of them twice. One of them signs up for something, you can expect five.” 

“Just my luck, I only got four,” she laughed. 

“Well, number five’s a guy so there’s not much we can do about that,” Wanda explained. “You just gotta realize that these girls aren’t dead set on winning, they just find it fun.” 

“I thought the fun part was winning,” she shrugged, biting into one of her baby carrots. “I just find it a bit bizarre is all.” 

“It’s a different attitude than the pros, it takes a few seasons at least to shake off,” she opened the third container, revealing some sort of fruit and yogurt parfait. Heather wondered if this was some intentional power play. If she just went up to all the new people who were clearly not coping with life and silently brag about how put together she was. “I used to get, like, extremely pissed when the boys would come into practice with Taco Bell bags and shit. Go on these whole tangents about proper nutrition and how they should watch what they put into their bodies but at the end of the day, they’re teenagers. As serious as I was used to taking it, I couldn’t make them care.” 

“I just can’t see why they’d dedicate so much time and money and effort into this if they don’t actually care,” she tried to boil down all the frustration she’d been feeling for the past week into a simple sentence. “Maybe I just care too much, I don’t know.” 

“You know, it’s completely normal to be frustrated with them,” she reassured her. “It’s a shock to be completely removed from it for years and then to come back on the other side. For the first year, every time I came home I’d take a deep breath and say, ‘damn, was I this annoying?’”

“When I was a teenager, multiple coaches had to strong arm me into not constantly practicing,” Heather laughed as she recounted it. Back when she thought that she’d be on the ice until the day she died. When she thought she’d always have that moxie and fervor that made people pay attention to her. Eighteen years later and look where she is now. “But, you know, it’s crazy. Every time I see Laura K. I get this weird uncanny feeling that I’ve met her before.” 

“Well, she does look a lot like her dad,” Wanda offered an explanation for the mystery that’s been plaguing her for the past week. 

“Oh and you’re just assuming I know her dad?” She smiled as she shook her head. 

“It wouldn’t shock me if you did,” she shrugged. “I mean you guys played in the same city, I’m sure you’ve crossed paths before.” 

“Okay, but who’s her dad?” She noticed the careful way she phrased it. Played in the same city. What she really meant was played on the same team as Mac. 

“Logan Howlett, you didn’t know?” Wanda laughed as if she had any way of knowing that before she told her. 

“Oh my god, she looks so much like him,” now that it was laid out in front of her, she felt like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. After all those events she spent talking to him, she didn’t know how she didn’t remember that he had a kid. “But I still think it’s crazy that we have the smallest hockey team known to man and there’s still two Lauras. The team is 25% Lauras.” 

“One year there were four Bryces on the varsity team alone,” she said as Heather tried to eat the rest of her lunch. It wasn’t appetizing when she put it together this morning but against hers, the only word she could use to describe it was sad. “And two of them had the same last initial so we had to call them Bryce Jennings and Bryce Jackson. It was crazy.” 

“I can imagine,” she laughed. “Really, all I can hope for is that we don’t get completely decimated on Saturday. I’m not delusional enough to think we’d win or anything.”

“Miracles happen all the time,” Wanda shrugged. “Even the most hopeless teams can win a game. Dumb luck, determination, divine intervention, who knows maybe you’ll rub off on them eventually.” 

“I know that I just need to give it time,” she had given up on the sandwich. The soggy bread was starting to get hard to swallow down. Lunch meat wasn’t as good as she remembered it being years ago. The lettuce had wilted and the tomatoes had that weird ‘I’m going bad’ texture. Too much mayonnaise, not enough interest to break up the blah of it all. “I’m still not used to this whole not playing hockey shit.”

“No, I get that. Your entire career imploding is a hard thing to get used to, I don’t think anyone–” She stopped her sympathetic spiel and turned to the door that was propped open. “Alison, did you need something?” 

“No…” Heather looked over to see the blonde girl standing right in the doorway with that look students get when they know they shouldn’t be doing something. 

“Then what are you doing?” Wanda asked, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Nothing…” She shifted her gaze between them as they both stared at her. It took a few more seconds before she just walked away. 

“Teenagers,” she rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea what that was about?” 

“Not in the slightest,” she laughed. “I assumed that you would know, considering you’ve worked with them a hell of a lot longer than I have.” 

“It’s like they’re surprised we talk to each other or something,” she shrugged, closing the now empty containers. 

“It’s the crossover episode,” Heather joked. “They never even considered it to be a possibility.” 

“Probably the most exciting thing that’s happened today,” Wanda laughed, putting the remnants of her lunch back into the tote bag and pulling out one last item, wrapped in some sort of paper. “Anyway, what I was trying to say before we were interrupted was that you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Some years are good and some years are bad, we have little control on who signs up for the team and how dedicated they are. All you really can do is point them in the right direction and hope they follow.” 

She unfolded the paper to reveal a stack of two cookies. Sugar, from the looks of it, with some sort of pink crumble on top. Heather couldn’t remember the last time she had a cookie. All those years of watching her diet made her miss out on a lot of things she used to love as a child. No ice cream or cake or candy or cookies or fancy drinks at that cafe near her old house. All for some competitive advantage that didn’t matter anymore. Even now that competing was out of the picture, she still felt guilty about it. 

“Here,” Wanda handed her one of the cookies. 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” she tried to laugh it off. Obviously, she had been staring at them. 

“No, I insist,” she smiled, still holding out the cookie. “Baking is no fun when you have no one to share it with.” 

“And here you were talking about proper nutrition,” Heather teased as she finally accepted the gift. 

“Well, after twelve years and four of them being on estrogen, I don’t think they’re putting me on the pitch anytime soon,” she laughed. “Besides, life is too much of a bitch to say no to cookies.” 

“Amen to that,” she agreed, putting the cookie in her lunch bag for later. God knows that something would happen at practice today that would make a cookie necessary. Besides, it wasn’t like she had much time to savor it right now. “Thanks, by the way.” 

“Anytime,” Wanda smiled at her as she slung the tote bag over her shoulder. “And if no one else tells you, what you’re doing for those girls matters. Even if they aren’t the best at showing it.” 

It was a test. Heather knew that being the best didn’t just mean that she had the most skills. Skills didn’t mean shit if she cracked under pressure. And that’s what this whole thing was. Seeing how they acted under pressure. Seeing how they could perform while they were intimidated. 

And she knew she wasn’t one to crack under pressure. No matter how good these other girls were, how many fancy camps their parents could afford, she knew she had an edge. She had something to prove and she’d be damned if any of them were going to stop her. 

She had to make it. She had to prove that this wasn’t just a hobby. It wasn’t just a phase despite what so many people wanted her to believe. This was who she was. Hockey was who she was. She didn’t know who she was without it. 

So she stayed late every single practice. The idea of hanging out with the team didn’t excite her anyway. She couldn’t think of a worse time than sitting around and talking about some boring popstar or whatever boys they were obsessed with. She’d rather stay out on the ice until they shut the lights off. Until they made her go back to her dorm. 

And when they did, she’d go to sleep. Go to sleep with the sole intention of waking up before everyone else and start it all over again. She’d be on the ice before everyone and leave after everyone. That was the only way to show that she was dedicated. That was the only way to show that she was worth a damn. 

“You know, there’s such a thing as too much practice,” Coach McKenna warned her as she was running a solo shooting drill back. 

“I know my limit,” she dismissed her concern, sinking another puck into the net. 

“Well, it sneaks up on you,” she shrugged. “One day you feel fine practicing twelve hours straight but then one day even a single hour becomes exhausting.”

“Yeah, I know,” she rolled her eyes, hoping she didn’t see it. “Just trying to earn my keep.”

“Heather, what keep?” She let out a laugh. “You’re fifteen, nothing’s going to be lost just because you take a few hours to get to know the people you’re supposed to be on a team with.” 

“What? Did they complain about me or something?” She stopped shooting for a second and turned to her coach. 

“No, I’ve just been observing all of you,” she explained. “Everyone knows you’re a good player. Everyone can see that you’re dedicated to the sport but dedication and talent isn’t the only thing we’re looking for here.” 

“I don’t understand what–”

“A good player who isn’t a good teammate is just as much of a liability as a bad player,” she interrupted her. “If you want to make it to the next level, you can’t be a lone wolf and I’d hate to see a talent like yours wasted.” 

The rink was quiet. Not a single sound but the fans that were keeping the building artificially cold. Heather didn’t have anything to say. It wasn’t like she was going to argue with her coach. She knew a hell of a lot more than she did. 

“Tomorrow, I want you to hang out with the rest of the girls,” Coach McKenna gave her the order. “You don’t have to like all of them, but I want to see you try.” 

“Yes, coach,” she nodded before turning back to her drills. As much as she thought it would be nothing but a waste of time, she was smarter than to argue with her.

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Heather knew how to run a practice in theory. From how many of them she’d been subjected to over the years she knew the difference between a good one and a bad one. But this was a blank slate entirely. 

She had no idea how these girls worked. She didn’t know their skill levels. She didn’t know what they were like on the ice. She was a complete outsider coming into an established team. A complete outsider who was supposed to lead them. 

There wasn’t any time to waste on dud practices. Only two weeks until the first game. Only five practices before then. Wasting a practice would be wasting twenty percent of their total practice time. That was too much time on the table. 

As much as she was worrying herself sick about it, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She couldn’t go back in time and gain all this information. All she could do was trust that Puck knew what he was doing more than she did. 

She just had to wait it out. Maybe just observing them would be a better idea than just taking the wheel. Build some rapport with the team. Give the girls a reason to respect her. If she came in, guns ablaze, barking orders, they wouldn’t give her the time of day. 

There was a strategy to this whole thing. If this was going to go well, she needed to walk a fine line. She couldn’t come on too strong. If she started the practice telling everyone what they were doing wrong, they’d have every reason to dismiss her. If she just sat back and let them do what they have been, they’d have a repeat of last year. 

God, Heather just wished she was still on the ice. She didn’t have to play these mind games with herself when she was the one holding the stick. But that wasn’t an option. She was relegated to the stands. 

“So what’s the plan for the day?” She asked Puck as she set her bag down on the bench. 

“We got some drills on the docket,” he explained, handing a notebook over to her, “trying to get them back in the groove of things.” 

“Sounds good to me,” she looked through everything. Shooting drills, handling drills, nothing out of the normal. “But before they get here I need you to be honest. Do we have a single prayer?” 

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “a few of them are good. Laura is great and Kara did pull her weight despite everything last year. The main problem with them isn’t their skills, it’s the fact that they don’t take this seriously.” 

“I figured that out yesterday,” she let out a slight laugh. “So they’re mainly just apathetic?” 

“For the most part,” he shrugged. “It didn’t help that they never had a reason to care last year. Brunson mentally checked out after the third game and it was downhill from there.” 

“I see,” Heather nodded. It did give her a little bit of relief. All she had to do to be better than their last coach was to keep caring. But then again, she could imagine that they were going to test her. Push her to the point where she wants to give up. 

Now wasn’t the time to start catastrophizing. Not when the girls were slowly started to appear. Laura was the first out on the ice. It made sense considering she was the first yesterday. Nice to see that at least the team captain took this seriously. 

“Welcome to practice,” she greeted her from the bench as she skated over to them. 

“Hello Coach McNeil,” she returned the greeting as she leaned against the barrier. “Hello, Puck.” 

“Getting a headstart? Heather asked, looking down at the time on her phone. 

“Better to be early than late,” she shrugged. “Besides, fifteen minutes isn’t too much time to stretch and hopefully if I’m here early enough then the others would follow.”

“It’s going to take a miracle to make them be ready even five minutes early,” Puck joked. 

“Oh, I have a plan,” she reassured him with a wink. “I just wanted to touch base about practice real quick.” 

“Just running some drills and trying to get back in the grove,” Heather explained, looking through the notebook. “Nothing too crazy, I’m still getting an impression of this team.”

“Sounds good,” she turned and waved at Kara and Laura D. as they got on the ice. “I know we got a bit of a weird team.” 

“Nothing I’ve never dealt with before,” she reassured her as she looked over at the two of them. Kara was leaning down, trying to hear something her friend was saying. “Forgive me asking but what’s with the whispering thing?” 

“Hmm?” Laura K. turned to her before understanding what she was asking. “Oh yeah, she has autism. Kara said that it might take a bit before she’s comfortable talking with everyone but she has experience playing in some friendly leagues.” 

“Good to know,” she tried to hide the hesitance that she felt about the whole situation. Not only did she have to try to lead an eight person team to victory, no one had told her before now that one of them was disabled. Well, shit, as long as she could play.

“I know it’s a bit unconventional but we wouldn’t have a team if we didn’t have eight girls,” she explained. “It’s the minimum that they’d allow and the only people who signed up to join were her and Jeanne-Marie.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Heather smiled. “At least she has some experience, it’s better than nothing. But speaking of…” 

“You must be wondering about our other new recruit,” she seemingly read her mind. “She was on the figure skating team but there was this whole drama and her brother convinced her to sign up for the team. We’ve been trying to run over the rules and stuff with her so you shouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

“It’s fine, I’m not worried,” she denied as a few more of the girls entered the rink. She looked down at her phone. 3:20. If she had to guess it was going to be a repeat of yesterday. Five of them would be ready and the other three would come in at the last minute. 

With that, she skated off, going to talk with some of the girls. She knew she shouldn’t be too worried. The first practice wasn’t the end of the world. Hell, how the girls did all season wasn’t the end of the world. None of this really mattered but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take it seriously. 

This school was the last place that had any faith in her. For some reason, they believed that she could do this. She didn’t need to give them or the girls any reason to count her out. She didn’t have anywhere else to turn to so this had to work out. It was going to work out. She wasn’t going to give up. 

She took a deep breath and grabbed the cones that sat next to the bench before walking out on the ice. This was no time for doubt. She just had to remind herself until she could believe it. 

“Alright,” she hit the side of the barrier to get their attention. “Good afternoon, ladies.” 

She heard a few of them mumble out their own greetings to her as she made her way into the rink. Puck followed behind her, handling the rest of the equipment. 

“Thank all of you guys for getting here and being ready on time, I’m sure we all greatly appreciate it,” she smiled as the other three rushed out of the locker room. It was almost like she could summon them by starting the practice. 

“Guys…” Laura K. sighed, looking at them. 

“We’re not even late!” Jubilee defended them as they skated to the crude semicircle the rest of them formed. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” she crossed her arms. “We completely understand that you guys were busy stanning Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.” 

“Excuse me?” Alison asked. “Completely uncalled for.” 

“No, it’s fine,” she laughed. “He probably just released a new song and you guys just had to listen to it.” 

“Lies and slander,” Tabby shook her head. “How can you even be captain if you make accusations as serious as that?” 

“What’s wrong with Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater?” Marrina asked. 

“Well besides the fact he told twelve year olds to bark for him, he also makes bad music,” Jubilee answered. 

“I think Strawberry Summer is a good song,” she shrugged as a few of them rolled their eyes. 

“That’s only because he complete ripped–”

“Ladies, can we please stay on task?” Heather rubbed her temple as they stopped arguing and looked at her. “I know it’s still early in the season but we only have five practices until the first game which means there’s no time to waste talking about whoever this pumpkin eater guy is.” 

“You don’t know who Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater is?” Allison laughed. 

“She doesn’t care,” Jeanne-Marie rolled her eyes. 

“We’ve got some drills to go over, just spend some time and get reacquainted with your skills,” she continued her spiel while they were paying half attention. “But even if it’s more casual that doesn’t mean that we’re going to tolerate just goofing around. Just like every other practice, stay focused and disciplined, okay?”

They all mumbled out their own ‘okay’s. If anything, it was a confirmation that they were at least partially listening to her. These past few months, she learned quickly that was all she could really ask for. 

“Alright,” she clapped her hands together. “Offense with me, defense with Puck.”

The girls split in half as Heather walked over to the left and Puck walked to the right. Seemed like the most efficient way to get things done. She might not be the most educated when it came to the ways of coaching but she knew even less about defense. Might as well give the girls a fighting chance. 

She only ever played offense. Even as a kid when the coaches liked to test them every which way it was obvious where her skills laid. She was an aggressive player. She could drive the puck like it was no one’s business. She was the one who took it to the goal, not the one who kept it away. That type of protective instinct wasn’t in her DNA. 

And she was a damn good forward too. Sure, a team could survive with a middling front line and a top tear defense but she wasn’t looking to just survive. If you want to win you have to have some people who know how to score. If her professional record was to be believed, she knew how to score. 

“So we’re going to start with some shooting drills,” she bent down to place the cones, trying not to wince at the shooting pain the action was causing. “Just working on different angles. It is a quick drill so we’re working on speed as well as accuracy.” 

She looked up to see if anyone was eager to start. From her point of view, Marrina, Tabby, and Jeanne-Marie were staring down at the ice. Obviously employing the teenage version of the ‘I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ strategy. Laura K. was looking at the rest of them, like she was tired of being the only person who ever raised their hand. 

“Fine, I guess,” she sighed after none of them stepped forward after a few seconds. 

“Lead by example, yess queen,” Tabby called out as she skated up to the first cone. 

“I’m sending The Hat Man after you tonight,” she rolled her eyes at her friend's taunt before sinking the first goal. Sprinting over to the second cone and hitting that puck into the net too. Repeating two more times before Heather pressed the button on the stopwatch. 

“9.3 seconds, all goals made,” she held out her hand and Laura skated over to give her a high five. “Very impressive. I’m sure the rest of you guys could match that, right?” 

“Well, the rest of us don’t sleep with our skates on,” Tabby teased her again as she went to grab the pucks. 

“Yeah, and the rest of us won’t have to deal with The Hat Man,” Laura shrugged, putting all of them in their previous places. “You’re next, bozo.” 

“Alright, geez,” she said as her friend pushed her forward. She stopped for a second and looked back at Heather. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she motioned her to go with her finger on the start button. Tabby didn’t need to be told again as she struck the first puck. Not waiting to see where it went before going to the second. Then the third. And the fourth.

“7.6 seconds, 2 out of 4 goals,” she said the final score after the last puck almost hit her. “You gotta work on your deep angles.” 

“Well, that’s still passing,” she shrugged, putting the first puck next to the last cone. 

“It’s not by almost every metric,” Laura pointed out. 

“It isn’t about passing or failing,” Heather reminded them, “it’s about honing your skills and working on your weaknesses. The goal isn’t to be the fastest or to get every single puck in the net, it’s about finding the balance so you can do both.” 

Marrina stepped up after Tabby was done putting them back into position. Took a few seconds before starting her drill. 

“13.2 seconds, 3 out of 4,” she called out after the last puck sunk into the net. “You’ve got good aim but if we were in a game you’d lose the puck before you could make the shot.” 

“Okay,” she nodded, repeating the actions of the last two girls. Taking the pucks from wherever they ended up and putting them back where they belonged. At least they decided to follow Laura’s example. She didn’t know if her leg could take all the wrangling and setting the pucks back up three times in a row. 

She looked up as Marrina skated back, hoping to see the last of them skating forward. But she wasn’t. She was standing there with her arms crossed like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Jeanne-Marie, you’re up,” Heather beckoned her over. She could see her take a deep breath before skating over. Or was that a sigh? It didn’t matter, she shouldn’t get caught up on it. At least she wasn’t arguing. At least she wasn’t fighting her. But there was one thing that she couldn’t ignore. “You’re holding the stick wrong.” 

“Well, I’ve never played this game before,” Jeanne-Marie defended herself with a huff as she walked over to her. 

“I know, that’s why I’m telling you instead of asking why you’re holding the stick wrong,” she explained, trying to shake off the attitude being thrown at her. She reached down to try and show her. “You want your right hand here and your left hand here. If you don’t hold it properly then you’re going to have a hell of a time trying to control the puck.” 

She grumbled something that Heather couldn’t quite hear before gripping her hands where she showed her to. She had to take a deep breath as she walked away. She wasn’t going to lose it at the first practice. She wasn’t going to yell at them before the season even really started. 

“Just do your best,” she reassured her after returning to her previous position. Watching as she stared down at the puck. As if looking at the black surface would tell her how to shoot it. Heather had no expectations. If no one told her how to hold the stick right, she’d be surprised if they even mentioned how to shoot. 

The first puck didn’t go too far. Not nearly enough force behind it. She was about to stop the clock just so she could try the shot again but before she could make a step, Jeanne-Marie was already skating to the second one. She swung the stick up before striking the second. Hitting the goal frame before going straight back to her. 

She groaned before skating on to the third one. The most oblivious person alive could see that she was getting frustrated. And if there’s anything she knew about this game, she knew a frustrated shooter was a bad shooter. 

“You can restart if you–” Jeanne-Marie hit the third puck before she could finish her sentence. Except this time she seemed to find her groove. Sinking it right into the net. Not even looking back before going to the fourth one. It didn’t take any time before that one made it in the net. 

“11.6 seconds, 2 out of 4,” Heather read out the time. “Not bad at all.” 

“Hey, I did better than that!” Tabby argued as Jeanne-Marie skated over to get the pucks. 

“You’ve been playing for two more years than her and couldn’t manage to score more,” Laura pointed out. 

“Can we keep the arguing to a minimum, please and thank you,” Heather sighed as Jeanne-Marie handed her the pucks. “Good job.” 

The teen had no overt reaction to her praise, she just skated back to the far end of the line. Well, at least she had some idea of what type of team she was working with. One good player, one impulsive shooter, one that wasn’t confident in her shots, and one that had potential but by all metrics didn’t want to be here. 

Whatever hand she was dealt was the hand she had to play. If she was half as good of a coach as she was a player, she could make this work. There wasn’t any way she could redraw. She didn’t have an ace up her sleeve. All she could do was put them down and pray that she didn’t lose every single penny she put into this sport. 

“Let’s run that back again and this time I want you guys to focus on your weaknesses,” she explained as she put them back in their previous positions. “I want to see some improvement on either time or accuracy.” 

Looking at the outside of the warehouse, she was filled with determination. Other people might be good at academia or athletic feats. Other people might be beautiful or charismatic. But everyone has something. Something they’re good at. And Heather was good at Costco. 

Most people would think it’s a bit reductive. A woman claiming her greatest talent was grocery shopping. It was the set up for a dumb joke. A trope. A stereotype. A housewife who prided herself in the ability to push a cart around. 

But she wasn’t a housewife anymore, thank god for that. And this wasn’t a grocery store. Calling it a simple grocery store would be an insult. Costco wasn’t any lousy super market. No, wholesale retail was a whole different ballgame. That giant building was no place to take a little stroll around the aisles. It was no place to walk around and see what she’d want to eat for the next two weeks. 

To survive, she needed to have a plan. She needed to have a list. She needed to have it mapped out. She needed to know exactly what she needed, exactly where that was, and the exact route she needed to take for maximum efficiency. In and out in less than 30 minutes. That was the goal and she had achieved it plenty of times before. But this was a bigger haul than those times. And she had a big setback this time. 

“We still have two places to stop after this, so we have to hurry,” Heather explained as she started to make her way towards the warehouse. 

“It’s only 1, honey,” Wanda tried to keep up with her accelerated pace. “We have all the time in the world.” 

“Sure, it’s only 1 right now,” she rolled her eyes, “but then we have to drive across town to go to the hardware store and after that we have to pick up dinner, not to even mention that we have to make sure that everything’s ready for tomorrow so we can leave first thing in the morning and by that point–” 

“We’re gonna be fine,” she insisted with a pat on her back. “I think you’re taking this a bit too seriously.” 

“Well, it’s a bit serious, Wanda,” Heather argued as she pulled a cart out of the line. “We’re leaving tomorrow and we had to wait until now to get all the food for basically the entire trip. We don’t have any other chance to do this so we need to get it done.” 

“Are we not getting any food during the trip?” She laughed. Heather ignored her mocking question and pulled that card out of her wallet. This was exactly why she didn’t like to go here with other people. No matter who she walked in with, all they did was get in the way. Was she taking it too seriously? No. It was just that no one else took it seriously enough. 

A month-long road trip ahead of her. Four people to feed and one opportunity to stock the RV. Food for three meals a day and plenty of snacks in between them. A lot of food needed to be purchased. A lot of food would need to fit into that limited space in the RV. This was a job fit for no one else but her. This was important. 

She scanned the card at the entrance and quickly walked into the warehouse. Right past the TVs and appliances. They had no need for those right now. She had her eyes on things that were deeper inside the building. 

“Oh, look at that,” Wanda commented, looking at some sort of countertop appliance. Three hundred dollars for something that they didn’t need. 

“We aren’t here to look around,” there was nothing Heather couldn’t stand more than parousing. This was no place to just look around. This was no place to just waste time. She wasn’t about to be that person just blocking the aisle. 

“Okay,” she threw her hands up and walked back over to the cart. “Where to first?” 

“Produce and bakery,” she stated as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, it was. It was the logical route. Walk in, walk to the back and start going down the list. The list was written to the route of course. Everything was in order. Everything was where she needed it to be. 

She looked down at that list written down on the notepad. The list of everything she needed to get to make this whole trip went as smoothly as possible. Simple. Straightforward. There was no room for confusion. No room for mistakes. She could grab all of them and move on to the next section. A quick look over of the bag. Pink Ladies were the crowd pleaser. Even if Braeburns were her favorite, she was less picky about her apples than Claire was. 

At least there weren't any strong opinions about small citrus. Cuties will go over well with everybody. Nice small snacks. Something they could keep in the car so no one had an excuse to bitch about being hungry while they were driving. 

The muffins and bagels would be useful when it came to mornings. Something quick for when no one wanted to bother about breakfast. Getting some more options so no one would have to feel left out. Wanda liked the parmesan but Heather always thought they tasted like barf so she also grabbed the everything variety. Muffins were easier. Everyone liked muffins. It was a simple section. In and out without a hiccup. She would be saving time if she was here alone. 

“Wanda, what are you doing?” Heather sighed as her girlfriend put two purple bottles into the cart. 

“What? Can I not get anything?” She asked with a smirk on her face. 

“We already got ciders and those canned cocktails, we don’t need prosecco,” she argued. It was like she was trying to piss her off. 

“I know we do, but consider the fact we could be having morning mimosas,” she pleaded her case with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Whatever,” she couldn’t lie, Wanda made a convincing argument. But if she ever admitted that, who knows what type of bullshit would end up in the cart? They were only working with a tight space after all. “Can you go grab some strawberries and grapes?” 

“Of course, what type of grapes?” She asked as she turned to the cooled section. 

“Cotton candy, and make sure that they’re still good,” she would be doing it herself but she avoided that section whenever she could. The upside of having someone with her is that she didn’t have to be subjected to those cold fans. 

Of course, chances were that she’d just grab the ones on top. That’s what Mac always did after all. He’d put them in the cart and she wouldn’t even notice the moldy berry on the bottom until they were already up at the register. And no matter how much she didn’t want to step into that human cooler, she’d end up having to do it anyway.

“Did you check them?” Heather asked as Wanda walked out with the two containers. 

“Of course I did, I’m not a dumbass,” she laughed while Heather lifted them up and looked at the bottom. No mold, no obvious blemishes. Good. She didn’t waste time or have to step into the chilled produce section. “What’s next?”

“Meat section,” she gestured to their left at all the displayed products. Steaks, ground beef, seafood, chicken, pork. Raw and precooked. Sausages and patties for those who weren’t butchers. Their list was just as simple. “We just need some sausage for dinner and breakfast. Claire wanted me to get some bacon too.” 

“Doesn’t she know that’s a microaggression?” She joked, grabbing a package of chicken apple sausage and tossing it in the cart. 

“If she does, then she doesn’t care,” Heather shrugged. Usually she’d spend more time in this section. But there was only so much space they had in the fridge. Only so many opportunities to cook them properly with all the time they’d be spending on the road. “I’ll make some sausage every time so you guys have something to eat too.” 

“Oh, Ed has no problem eating bacon,” she laughed, “I just never developed the taste for it.” 

“Well, I’ll still make some for you,” she rolled her eyes, grabbing two packets of the breakfast sausage. 

“Aww, and I deserve it?” Wanda asked as Heather checked the list again. 

“Depends on how many more shenanigans you try to pull today.” She warned. Onto the drinks. Or at least the ones that were bottled and canned. 

“Shenanigans?” She gasped. “How dare you accuse me of such things?” 

“This is serious, Wanda,” Heather continued to push the cart to the back of the warehouse. “We’re leaving tomorrow, we need to get everything done today. If we miss something–” 

“We’ll get it during the trip,” she reassured her. “This is supposed to be a vacation, you know.” 

“But someone has to make sure the vacation goes smoothly,” she explained. “I can’t relax if we’re not set up for success.” 

“We are set up for success, honey,” Wanda grabbed a pack of the bottled water and heaved it into the cart. “We got the car all set, the RV is ready, the kids are hyped, all the campsites are booked. It’s not going to be a horrible vacation just because you don’t complete the most efficient run in the history of Costco.” 

“I know that it won’t be horrible,” Heather rolled her eyes, “this is just a point of personal pride. Did you want a specific drink?” 

“What’s on the list?” 

“Well the water obviously, diet coke, white monster,” she started to list off as they headed towards the soda cases, “and something fun without caffeine for Claire.” 

“I think I’m good with my teas,” she assured, putting the box of white monster on top of the water.

“If you say so,” she shrugged. The cart was already getting full. And heavy. Only getting heavier when Wanda put the case of diet coke on top of the drink tower they were building. “Do you think she’d like those fruit drinks over there?”

“I think she’d be willing to try anything as long as it’s pink,” she turned and looked at the box she was pointed at. Advertised as low sugar, no caffeine, and great taste. “And if not, I’m sure they’ll be drunk anyway.”

“I know, but I’d like to make sure she has something to drink as well,” she explained as Wanda placed them into the cart. 

“Worst case scenario, I’ll share my hibiscus tea,” she winked. “You’re worried about nothing.” 

“I think that I have a lot to be worried about,” she argued as she pushed the cart on. They still needed to get chips and bread and pasta. Still had a lot of ground to cover. 

“Like what, honey?” Wanda laughed. 

“I’m just trying to set everyone up for success,” she repeated her concern. “You know, it’s a month together, on the road, with a whole blended family thing going on. And she didn’t really take the whole divorce well at first, I’m just worried that this whole thing is pushing it a bit.”

“The divorce was two years ago,” she reminded her as Heather weaved between the cart traffic. Moms trying to wrangle their five kids. Old men blocking the entire hall. Someone in athleisure filming a video talking about how seed oils were killing people. “And I’ve been around for a year. If she wasn’t okay with it, she would’ve made it known far before this point. Heather, watch out, that lady’s trying to turn.” 

“Never yield in a Costco,” she shook her head as she continued on. Confident driving was the rule of this warehouse. The second she let someone get out ahead of her was the second she’d get lost in the crowd. “It’s just a long time to be away from home. I mean, she was already telling the neighbor to keep watch on her american girl dolls when he’s over to water the roses.” 

“She asked me to keep watch on them when she went to her friend’s birthday party,” Wanda reminded her. “She’ll be fine without all her toys. Besides, she’s bringing Samantha, right?” 

“Wrong, she decided that Kit would appreciate the journey more.” She grabbed the double loaf of sourdough bread. 

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, honey,” she kissed her forehead. “She’s going to have fun. Ed’s going to have fun. And most importantly, we’re going to have fun.” 

“Yeah but before we can have fun,” she held up the list, “we still have to get the snacks.” 

“The most important part of any grocery trip,” Wanda agreed as they pushed towards the most treacherous part of any Costco. Those tight aisles that left no room for error. No room for cowardice. Only the most dominant Costco shoppers could survive. 

“Grab those protein bars you like,” Heather commanded as she pushed on. She wasn’t about to be the person who clogged up the entire aisle. This was the true test. The final challenge before the checkout line. Who could command the cart and who would get trapped between the chocolate and the spicy nuts? 

She grabbed a bag of shelled pistachios. A great road snack. Something quick she could shove into her mouth with one hand. Also some shortbread cookies because why the hell not? 

“Slow down,” Wanda called after her as she continued to plow down the aisle. 

“We can’t stop until we’re out the aisle,” she shook her head before turning out of it. Giving the taller woman just enough time to put the box in the cart. “It’s the only way to survive.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” She asked as she put the box in the cart. 

“No, you just don’t understand Costco,” Heather started down the next aisle. She wasn’t being dramatic. She wasn’t taking this too seriously. She just understood what she needed to do. All the steps she needed to take. Because she wasn’t just good at this, she was the best at this. 

She barreled down the tight passageway. Grabbing meat sticks and snack mixes. Things that were specifically requested. Everyone will have something to eat. Everything was going to go smoothly. It would be the perfect trip, she was going to make sure of it. 

“How do we feel about peanut M&Ms?” She asked as they stopped at the end. 

“I do love a peanut M&M,” she agreed, “but I also know my son and those would be gone in two days max.” 

“What if we hid them?” She reached for the jar with the yellow lid. 

“That wouldn’t really be fair to the children.” 

“What if we got two?” She offered a final argument. 

“Now you’re talking,” Wanda laughed, reaching over to grab a second one. “Anything you forgot?” 

“I don’t forget things,” she shook her head as they joined a checkout line. “Not in this store.” 

With a full cart and a sense of pride, all they could do was wait. Wait for their turn after the old lady who must be buying for something at her church and the dad with five cases of pepsi in his cart. Waiting was the hardest part. Choosing which line would be the fastest. This was a make or break point. The step that determined whether or not they’d get out of there with time to spare or if their time was wasted. 

“Where are you going?” Heather asked as her girlfriend started to walk away from the cart. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Wanda waved her off. Leaving her alone with all the groceries that still needed to be put on the conveyor. A giant task right at the end that she had to do alone. Not that she wasn’t used to it. Whenever she went with Mac, he’d always wonder off to do whatever at this critical point. 

It didn’t matter. She could handle this. She’d handled it many times before. Just take all those small things and arrange them on the black belt. Put her card in the divider so everything runs smoothly. She couldn’t claim to be good at Costco if she couldn’t even finish the job. 

But despite previous patterns, she didn’t have to do this alone. Right as she reached down for the bag of cuties, another hand beat her to it. 

“Need help with this, ma’am?” Wanda teased as she started unloading the cart alongside her. 

“It would be greatly appreciated,” she rolled her eyes at her antics. It looked like more items than it really was. Guess that was a good thing that they didn’t completely over do it. Well, it was hard not to over do it. This wasn’t an average grocery trip, after all. No. This was a Costco trip before a big road trip. This was the real test of any great Costco shopper. 

“Do you need any boxes today,” the cashier asked, handing Heather her card back as she made it up to the register. 

“Yes, please,” she smiled. The sound of those familiar beeps filled her ears. It was the sound that couldn’t be replicated. The sound of right decisions and being set up for the next month. The sound of saving money. The sound of wholesale retail. 

Wanda stood right beside her as the number began to climb. She wasn’t sweating it. She knew how much this trip would cost. Gave a good 50 dollars of leeway because she knew they’d find things that weren’t on the list. Any good Costco shopper would account for it. But she wasn’t good. She was great. 

“Your total comes out to $258.65,” the cashier read out as the bagger was still busy putting everything into those boxes that would’ve been discarded otherwise. 

“Perfect,” Heather smiled before presenting her card. It was perfect. Despite Wanda’s efforts to distract her and throw her off her game, she still managed to make it. Proved to herself and everyone else with a ridiculously big cart that she still got it. 

“Alright, here’s your receipt, have a great day,” with that sendoff, she was ready to go. Leave this realm and go back into the real world. The real world where the rules didn’t make as much sense as they did in Costco. 

“Wait up, honey,” Wanda stopped her and headed over to the food court counter. Grabbing two drinks that had just been placed down. 

“Why did you get us drinks?” Heather couldn’t help but laugh as she put the caramel mocha freeze into her hand, leaving the strawberry banana smoothie for herself. 

“Consider it a reward for a job well done,” she shrugged, placing the straw into her drink. 

“The job isn’t over yet,” she denied, handing the receipt over to the checker. They gave the cart a thorough lookover before marking it with their purple sharpie. “We still have to put everything in the car and–” 

“Leave that up to me,” she gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Aren’t you so glad to have such a strong girlfriend?” 

“Mmm, I am,” she hummed as they entered the parking lot again. The light from the sun seemed blinding compared to the fluorescent ones they hung from the ceiling. 

It was a big country, after all. There must be so many other girls in so many other places that were just as talented as she was. It didn’t matter if she was the best in Calgary. It didn’t matter if she was the best in the entirety of Alberta. It didn’t mean that there weren’t twenty girls that were better than her. No matter how good everyone thought she was, nothing was guaranteed. 

All she could do was sit on the bed and anticipate the ringing of the phone. The ringing of the landline that was. Her parents still wouldn’t let her have her own cellphone despite the fact that everyone else had one. Maybe they’d change their minds if she got it and she’d be whisked away to Toronto for the summer. 

The yarn of her crocheted blanket kept getting caught in the rough edges of her fingernails. Royal purple and silver, like so many other things in her room. As if she could manifest it by covering her room in their colors and posters. 

She was going to be a Siren. She wanted to be a Siren for so long at this point. Surely that dedication must mean something. But fandom alone won’t get her in their sights. She needed this opportunity. She needed to prove to everyone in the whole hockey world that she was someone to talk about. How could she if she couldn’t even make the Canadian Junior Women’s Hockey Team? 

“Please god,” she mumbled to herself, trying to stop her heart from racing. It wasn’t the end of the world. Even if they said no, it didn’t mean her life was over. It would just be a setback. She could handle a setback. 

Coach Jack always told her that she was resilient. The type of player that no one could keep down. No matter how many times people tried to knock her down a peg, she got right back up and spat in their face. She wasn’t the type to hang up her skates over something as trivial as this. 

But then again, if she wasn’t one of the best in the country, what chance did she have? If she couldn’t say that she was the best, what could she say? She didn’t have her looks going for her. Her personality certainly wasn’t winning any awards. Hockey was all she had. Hockey was everything. 

She practically shot up from her bed when she heard the phone ring. She had to run. She couldn’t risk any of her siblings picking it up. She couldn’t risk them ruining this for her. But as she ran down the stairs, she heard it stop ringing. As she made it into the living room, she could only groan as she saw her brother smirking while holding the phone. 

“Is Heather here?” He practically laughed. “Man, I don’t know…” 

“Give me the phone,” she reached her hand out and he shook his head. “This is serious, Dan. Give me the phone.” 

“You need to talk to her?” She could tell he was getting a lot of joy out of this. “What exactly do you need to talk to her about?”

“Mom!” She called out towards the kitchen. “Dan won’t give me the phone!” 

“Oh my god,” Heather heard her groan. “He’s allowed to use the phone too. You don’t pay the phone bill.” 

“The CJWH are calling and he won’t give me the phone!” She explained, still trying to take it from his hands.

“And you can’t handle this yourself?” She stomped her way into the living room. “Dan, give your sister the phone.” 

“I’m talking to someone,” he smirked at Heather once again. 

“Do I need to get the wooden spoon?” Her mom asked with a hand on her hip. The threat was enough for him to roll his eyes and hand the phone over to his sister. 

“Brat,” she mumbled before putting the phone up to her ear. “Hello.” 

“Good evening, am I speaking with Heather McNeil?” The voice was grainy on the other end. 

“Yes, this is her,” she answered as Dan was mouthing ‘bitch’ at her. 

“Well, this is Tara McKenna with Canadian Junior Women’s Hockey,” she explained as her heart was beating out of her chest, “we’ve been watching your career for a bit and of course saw your tryouts and I have to say that we were all very impressed.” 

“Okay,” she nodded, not sure if she was even breathing at this point. 

“So, after much consideration, we wanted to offer you a spot at the summer training camp,” she could’ve screamed. Hell, she could’ve flown right out of that house. The rest of the call didn’t matter. The logistics didn’t concern her much anyway. She made it. She really made it.

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Exhausted wasn’t a strong enough word. As Heather walked up the stairs to her apartment, she felt completely and utterly drained. Like half a lemon that was squeezed out and discarded on the ground. Life got all it could out of her today but it was just her luck that her day wasn’t done. 

No matter how tired she was, she still had shit to do. Assignments to grade, dinner to make, more meds to take, and now she also had to try and figure out what the hell she was going to do about the team. What a nasty surprise. First year of doing this and they gave her an impossible task. 

God must be testing her. As if he hadn’t tested her enough the past year. How many more lessons did she actually need? She got the hint a while ago. She knew that she was pathetic, she knew that she had nothing left now that she didn’t have the only thing she was good at, she didn’t need to be constantly reminded of it. 

Lamenting got in the way of the shit she actually needed to do. She needed to eat. She needed to get the piles of work she had done. She needed to get inside her apartment but her keys were evading her. Slipping through her fingers every time she tried to get a grip on them. 

“Come on,” Heather felt the tears welling up in her eyes. It was a pathetic thing to cry about. She was just frustrated. Nothing was going her way today. Nothing had been going her way for a while. 

She was a woman in desperate need of a win. Any sort of thing to prove that marching on was worth it. Anyone would get tired after getting beat down for so long. She didn’t even have time to get up before the next kick landed. It seemed like she didn’t have a single chance. 

She managed to grab her keys and unlock the door. The sight of her shitty apartment didn’t relieve her. It was just another reminder that she didn’t have anything anymore. Only some cheap Ikea furniture and anything that was nailed down. 

With a sigh, she dropped her bag next to the door. Her giant laundry list weighed heavy on her mind. How could she expect to get it all finished tonight when she had no energy? She couldn’t even get her priorities straight. Does she push through the assignments? Does she try to get a gameplan for their next practice? 

Her stomach answered for her. The first priority was getting food in her. Something quick and easy. Something that took as little effort and bandwidth as possible. She walked to the pantry and took a look at the little options she had left. Just another thing to add onto her busy schedule. 

She took a deep breath as she grabbed the red package that sat on the shelf. As if she needed another reason to give up. Beef was always her least favorite. She didn’t even know why she had it. Just to be faced with disappointment. Just for the opportunity to arise that it was the last one she had left. 

Better than nothing, she supposed. Better than spending 20 dollars on some take out that would be just as bad for her. If you told her that she’d be eating instant ramen for dinner most nights even ten months ago, she would’ve laughed in your face. But now… 

She didn’t have much energy to care about what she was putting in her body anymore. It wasn’t like she had anything worth keeping in shape for. It wasn’t worth the effort. She didn’t have any more effort to give. All she could do was fill up that pot and place it on the stove. 

Today gave her too much to think about. Too much to worry about. Too much to cry about. It was impossible. How did they ever look at her and think that she could do this? How did she ever look at herself in the mirror and think that she could do this?

Whatever mistakes she thought she made, she couldn’t unmake them. She couldn’t turn back time but she could rip the seam on the back of the package. The seasoning was always beneath that brick of noodles. The instructions say to put it in afterwards but that’s never how she made it. 

She stared at the pot that was just starting to bubble as she snapped the silver packet back and forth a few times. If she spilt even a crystal of salt on the floor she might just collapse on the ground sobbing. One of the most idiot proof dinners out there and she still knew she could find a way to mess it up.

As she tore the packet open she could help but think about the team. As if they were some puzzle she could solve. If she put those girls in exactly the right places then they’d have a competent team. If she just did a dance and said the magic word then they could win a game. 

She hadn’t even seen them play yet. She had no idea what they could really do. Maybe tomorrow they’ll blow her away. Maybe there was an olympic level team hiding underneath all that teenage apathy. Maybe this was all just some elaborate prank they pulled on first year coaches. 

She plopped the noodles into the now boiling water. There was really nothing she could do but wait. How could she make a game plan if she had no idea how any of them played? They seemed to be pretty set in their roles. How good they were at them, she didn’t know. 

“Must not be that good if they didn’t win a single game,” she mumbled to herself, pushing the still solid brick down into the brown water with the spoon. Or was it broth with the seasoning in it? Did it even matter? 

She didn’t need to be worrying herself to the point of tears about it. It was nothing worth crying over. Even if it was, it wasn’t like she couldn’t handle it. Her grandma always said she was one tough cookie. That she could handle anything and get right back up. She was grateful that her grandma didn’t have to see her like this. 

Why was it so hard to bounce back? Why was it so hard to accept that this was her life? That this was her job no matter how unglamorous and inconsequential it seemed? She couldn’t go back in time and change what happened but she couldn’t accept that this was where she ended up.

From on top of the damn world to putting instant ramen noodles in a bowl. It didn’t get sadder than that. There was nothing she could salvage from her broken life. Nothing that would bring her any sort of comfort. As much as she told herself that her wallowing and moping about had no use, she kept doing it. 

She couldn’t help but let a few tears spill from her eyes as she sat at that ridiculously tiny dining table. It was clearly built for one. It wasn’t like she had anyone to share this with. She wouldn’t want to share it with anyone anyway. 

Everyone always asked how she was doing. Former teammates, people from high school, even her family sometimes. She never told them the truth. The truth that she was drowning. She didn’t want to admit that everything she ever worked for didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t want them to know that she was only worth something when she was on the ice. 

Concern and sympathy would do nothing for her. It wouldn’t change her circumstances. It wouldn’t make her reality any less true. It would suddenly give her the energy to care about making anything other than instant fucking ramen for dinner. 

And here she was bitching and moaning about the supposed apathy of the team. Saying that they should care more when she couldn’t care at all. She just needed to get her act together. If this team was going to win a single game, she couldn’t give up before the first real practice. 

All wasn’t lost. If there was still a team, there was something she could work with. At least Laura K. seemed to have some idea what she was doing. Probably why they made her the captain. She still had to see how everyone else played. How they meshed together. 

Two new people weren’t the worst thing in the world. Sure, they lost experience but gained potential. She found it interesting how Jeanne-Marie said she hadn’t played before. Well not exactly said, just sarcastically nodded when she asked. A junior suddenly deciding to take on a new sport. 

The most interesting part about it was she wasn’t sitting with anyone else. In fact, she was sitting as far away as she possibly could. So if she didn’t join for skill, and it was clear she had little interest, and she didn’t join to hang out with friends, why was she there? Why would she sign up for months of rigorous practice, countless hours, and hard games, on a team with a generational losing streak? 

She’ll have to get the story at some point. All she wanted was to understand why they were there. They must’ve fought to still be in the league with a team this small. What was worth fighting for? What did this bring them that they couldn’t find somewhere else? 

Perhaps she just had to wait and find out. She couldn’t make any sense of it. Whenever she was on the ice, her only goal was to win. If she was on a team so incompetent, she would’ve raised hell to switch teams. It was wasted practice. Wasted potential. It didn’t matter how good she was, no one would be looking at the team who couldn’t win. 

But if they couldn’t win a single game, surely the coaches had something to do with it. Not that she was trying to make a dig at Puck, from what she could tell he was nice and seemed to have a good amount of rapport with the girls. He also wasn’t the head coach. He wasn’t the one supposedly calling the shots. If her past experiences mattered at all, he was more a team wrangler than anything. 

A team couldn’t work without a coach. A coach couldn’t work without a team. Even the best players in the world could completely crumble under an incompetent coach. A bad coach was enough to make people quit the game altogether. She had no intention of being a bad coach. 

But if she was going to be a good coach, she couldn’t just give up. She couldn’t just accept that this was all she had left. She couldn’t subject herself to more nights of cheap dinner she didn’t even enjoy in the slightest. If she didn’t care, how could she convince the rest of them to? 

She needed something to live for. Something to fill that hockey-shaped hole in her heart. Who’s to say that this couldn’t be what she needed? She accepted this job for a reason after all and it wasn’t to be constantly drowned in class work. After a shitty year, she had the chance to make an actual difference. Not just for herself but for these girls. 

“Yeah,” she gave him a slight smile. Yeah, just talking. Just talking into a microphone in front of a camera. Just a little conversation that everyone at school would be asking about tomorrow. It wasn’t important at all. Nothing about it could possibly make her nervous. 

She looked up at the camera as well. That big black box. All those people behind it. The operator. The guy holding the boom mic. A couple of producers, one counting down from twenty and another mouthing ‘smile’ at her. 

A couple of deep breaths. Ten, nine, eight, seven. How could anyone not be nervous? Six, five, four, three. God, she never should’ve agreed to this. Two. Was there still time to–

“Most people might think that hockey is a man’s sport,” the man started talking right on cue. “A way for those rough and tumble boys to get out their energy and aggression. The peak of masculinity but those people should be ready to get proven wrong.” 

She tried to keep that smile plastered on her face as he kept talking. How did people do this for a living? Nothing about it felt natural. 

“Local Calgary teen, Heather McNeil, has been carving a space of her own in the rink,” she must’ve looked as crazy as she felt. Everyone watching at home must be able to tell that she was about to throw up. “A hockey prodigy that has been making waves not only for her aggressive play style but also her personality on and off the ice. Tell me, Heather, when did you know that this was your sport?”

“Oh, you know,” she let out an awkward laugh, not even noticing the way she was swaying her hips, “I just love being out on the ice. Ever since I was a kid, I’d beg my parents to take me to the rink and I saw some kids in their hockey practice and I just knew that’s what I wanted to do.”

“And did you ever think about going into a more feminine sport like figure skating or was there just something special about hockey?” 

“I was never interested in being girly or flouncy or anything,” she rolled her eyes at the question. Her parents tried to convince her to go into it for years until they realized it was no use. It didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be a fragile little ice dancer. “Hockey makes me feel powerful. I love getting aggressive, fighting for the puck, I love sinking a goal and hearing the buzzer. I don’t care if people think I shouldn’t, I love nothing more.”

“Confident girl, I see,” he nodded. “And are you ever intimidated by all the boys? Do you ever feel out of place?” 

“Not at all,” Heather laughed at the suggestion. “If anything, the boys are intimidated by me. I’ve been the only girl in the rink more times than I can count and I can tell you, there’s nothing they hated more than when I scored on them.” 

“Well, watch out boys, it seems like nothing can slow this hot shot down,” he put his hand on her shoulder. “And folks at home, I’m sure this isn’t the last time we’ll hear about Heather. Doug Parker, five o’clock news.” 

She took a deep breath and dropped that dopey smile the second the producers gave her a go ahead. This might be the first time but if her plans go right it surely won’t be the last. 

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Heather didn’t know how she thought that she’d be able to get the first practice off her mind. As much as they tried to hide it, she knew that was the whole reason they hired her. The whole teaching position was just a ruse. A way to secure her for what they really wanted. 

From the interview, it didn’t seem dire. They just needed a coach for the next season. Also happened to have an opening for an english teacher. And despite her lack of experience in both fields, they decided she was the perfect fit. 

But the longer she sat at her desk, thinking about it, the more she wasn’t sure if anything was adding up. There were supposed to be tryouts a week ago. It seemed like one of the most logical steps. Get herself acquainted with the girls and find out who would mesh together. But then she got an email from the athletics director that they didn’t have the supplies or budget or numbers for a junior varsity team. 

Whatever, that’s fine. As much as she wanted some idea of what she was walking into, she understood that it was a waste of everyone else's time. She’d just have to figure out the starting roster before the first game. She’d also have to find the full roster to begin with. Despite how many emails she sent requesting it, they seemed to be keeping their lips real tight about it.

Was this normal? Did all their coaches have to deal with a lack of transparency? She should’ve asked Wanda when she had the chance. It seemed like she had a better idea of who was on the team anyway. But if she knew, then Heather could rest easy knowing that it wasn’t just some puppet team.

She was probably worried about nothing. Surely they weren’t throwing her to the wolves. She couldn’t go into this having already decided that it was going to be a disaster. The more she thought about it, the less she could focus on her actual job. 

“Mrs. Hudson…” A student walked up to her desk as she kept refreshing her email. The director promised to send her the roster before lunch, which was fast approaching. 

“It’s Ms. McNeil,” Heather reminded them, looking up from her screen. 

“Yeah, sorry,” they laughed it off. “Umm, what was the reading for tonight?” 

“Chapters 8 through 10 along with the third worksheet,” she answered as a notification popped up from her inbox. “You can also consult the board, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah,” they looked over to where tonight's homework was clearly written before walking away. A thank you would’ve been nice but she has learned in the short few months she’s been here not to expect much. 

She sighed as she opened the email. Extremely impersonal. She couldn’t rule out that he wasn’t using AI or just some shitty template. But she didn’t care that much. She could deal with some vague rudeness if it meant that she got the roster. And it was just her luck to see that PDF attached at the bottom. 

‘26-27 Stellar Academy Comettes Hockey Roster’ 

She took a deep breath and chose to ignore the nonsensical feminization that they seemed so attached to. But she knew how these things worked, she had to get a bit more respect before she started making changes. She didn’t even know who was on the team and she was already making plans to change their name. 

But as Heather opened the document she couldn’t help but feel confused. She looked over it twice just to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. 

Beaubier, Jeanne-Marie

Blaire, Alison 

Dean, Laura

Killgrave, Kara

Kinney, Laura

Lee, Jubilation 

Smallwood, Marrina

Smith, Tabitha

She tried to click anywhere to see if there was another page. There had to be another page. There must be eight more girls from T-Z. He must’ve just forgotten to attach it like the jackass she was finding out he is. But the document only had one page. That page only had eight names. 

Was that even a team? A starting roster and two alternates? That was absurd. That was nonsensical. Every team she’s ever been on had sixteen members or more. She hadn’t even heard of a team with less than twelve. How did this get cleared? Could they even compete? One injury and the season would be over. 

No, she had to get to the bottom of this. There was no way they were expecting her to have any sort of success. It was a set up. Half a normal team. How were they supposed to win when most of the team would be in for the entire game? Hell, she couldn’t have won with an eight man team. 

She quickly pressed the reply button and started typing quickly. 

Hello, 

Thanks for sending the roster but it appears there’s a problem. The document you sent over only has eight names which I’m sure you know is practically unheard of for a hockey team. I was wondering if there was another page you forgot to send over? If so, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could send it over by the end of the day. 

All the best, 

Heather McNeil

She leaned back and let out a heavy sigh as she pressed send. As if it wasn’t already a long day. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about as is. The last thing she needed was being given the run around. 

“Mrs. Hudson?” Another student approached her desk. 

“It’s Ms. McNeil,” she corrected for the second time this period. “What do you need?” 

“What worksheet are we doing tonight?” 

“The third worksheet,” she looked over at the board just to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind. Nope, she wasn’t. It was right there. Clear as day. Everyone just seemed to be dedicated to making her go insane today.

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Pain killers didn’t seem to work for as long as they claimed to. Only eight hours into a pill that claimed to work for twelve and her leg was already getting too much to bear. She was starting to develop a nasty habit of pounding ibuprofen. Negative effects on her health be damned. Not that it actually worked. 

Heather still wasn’t used to this ‘constantly in pain’ bullshit. She didn’t know if she’d ever be. Right now, she was gunning on all of this being temporary. She just had to find the right medication and the right surgeon and the right whoever else who’d understand perfectly how to fix it. 

She was too young to have to deal with this for the rest of her life. She had too much life to live for such a grim prognosis. It got in the way of everything. The prospect that it wasn’t going to get better didn’t excite her. 

But she couldn’t waste too much time feeling sorry. She had to haul as much ass as she could muster to get to the rink. They had a rink at the academy, she thanked god that she didn’t have to drive. It was only as far from her classroom as it could possibly be. 

It didn’t matter, she had to make the trip. No one was going to pick her up and carry her. She wasn’t going to debase herself by getting some old lady scooter. She just had to walk through it. She just had to act like every step wasn’t killing her. 

At least her poker face was getting better. After a while, she learned how to keep it in. She couldn’t grimace with every step so she just kept a neutral face as her leg was betraying the rest of her body. There was no point in dramatics if this was the baseline from now on. 

The doors to the rink were propped open. Even from down the hall she could feel that familiar cold draft. Heather pushed down that wave of nostalgia that it brought. All those memories from all those years of walking into rinks just like this one. Prepared for another game, another season, another opportunity to prove that she was worth her weight. 

She guessed that she was proving herself in a different way. Instead of getting on the ice and sinking pucks in the net, she had to do the impossible. That was if she wasn’t being punked. The athletic director never replied to her email. All she wanted was a confirmation either way. She wanted to know what she was walking into. 

But as she walked down the stairs of the bleachers, she realized it was still going to be awhile. The seats were completely empty. Well almost empty if it wasn’t for that one seat next to the glass. 

“Good afternoon, Coach McNeil,” the short man greeted her as she clutched the railing to try and take any sort of pressure off her throbbing leg. 

“Hello,” she returned the greeting. “You must be Coach Judd.”

“Please, just call me Puck,” he laughed. “It’s good to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise,” she nodded, finally making her way to the front row. She found it odd how they managed to keep an assistant coach when they lost the head one. But from every other point of reference she had a feeling that this team was just weird. “Where’s the team?” 

“They should be showing up in a few minutes,” he checked his wrist watch. “Their favorite line is ‘practice doesn’t start until 3:30’ so might as well get used to it.” 

“All of them?” 

“Basically,” he shrugged. “Half our job is just getting them to pay attention to what we’re saying.”

“Well, you seem to know a lot about this team,” she took a deep breath.

“After five years, I better,” he joked. “I’m sure they told you everything.” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Heather sighed, leaning against the glass, still trying to act like her leg wasn’t making her want to kill herself. “It seems like this school is gunning on me not knowing anything about the team. I didn’t even know that the team only had eight members until three hours ago.” 

“Now, that’s a nasty surprise,” he shook his head. “I’m honestly surprised they didn’t just cut their losses and pull the plug.” 

“I don’t mean to be rude but how are they supposed to have a chance in hell with a team this small?” Heather crossed her arms. “Are they expecting us to win any sort of game when a healthy team is twice this size?” 

“We’re anemic, I know,” someone added as they made their way into the bleachers. “We lost four last year and only gained two.” 

“Oh, hello,” she tried to drop the attitude when she walked in. As upset as she was about the way things were going down, she couldn’t show it to the girls. “Welcome in.” 

“Hi,” she greeted her back. Heather looked up to see a familiar looking girl with dark brown hair walking up to her. “I’m Laura, team captain this year.”

“Nice to meet you,” she nodded, wondering which Laura she was talking to. It seems like just her luck that she could have the smallest hockey team in the league and still have to deal with a double name. 

“Where’s the rest of ya?” Puck asked as she put her bag down next to a chair in the front. 

“Where do you think?” She rolled her eyes. “Wasting time like they usually do.” 

Heather brought out her phone and checked the time. 3:20. Not late enough to get pissed about it yet. If it was her, she wouldn’t take any chances. She’d try to make a good impression on her new coach. But it wasn’t like she could reasonably expect a team full of little clones of her. 

“Well, hopefully they won’t waste too much time,” she sighed, watching those big doors. Willing the rest of them to walk in. Or at least she was trying to. 

“They usually just beat the buzzer,” Laura explained, grabbing a headband out of her bag. God, she looked so familiar but Heather just couldn’t place it. “I tried to push them along but they don’t take it as seriously as I do.”

At least one of them took it seriously. It was starting to seem like that was all she could hope for. But despite what some managers would want everyone to believe, one player didn’t make a team. She couldn’t count on the skills of a single player. 

Soon enough, a few more girls started to shuffle their way in. One tall girl with short green hair parked herself near the front. A pair of them coming together, one with an oversized purple sweater and a shorter, black girl seemingly trying to hide behind her. Another with wavy black hair sitting away from the rest of them. 

She looked at the time again. Only five minutes and we were still missing three girls. Over half the team on time wasn’t too bad considering the size. That didn’t mean it didn’t piss her off. 

Laura was typing something on her phone. The girl with the green hair was sitting back in the stadium seat, looking more bored than anything. The pair was still together with the shorter girl whispering something in the other's ear. The last girl was still sitting a row back and at least five seats away from anyone else, with a look on her face that said she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Alright, well,” Heather cleared her throat. She had no reservations about starting before the clock hit the exact time. If anything, it would be a lesson to those girls who seemed to be in no rush, “hello everybody. Welcome to another season, hopefully it will be a good one.” 

“Well, it won’t be hard to beat our record last year,” Puck joked, which made a few of them laugh. 

“Everyone has so much confidence in this team,” she sighed as the last three came in all at once. Not a hint of worry on any of them. “How nice of you guys to join us.” 

“It’s 3:28,” one of the blonde girls stated as they took their seats next to their friend. 

“On time is late,” Laura stared them down. 

“You’re the only person who thinks that,” the girl with short black hair and the yellow jacket rolled her eyes. 

“First impressions are important,” Puck reminded them, “and in case you forgot what happened last season, you guys have a new coach.” 

“Thank you,” I said before turning back to the stands. “Well, if any of you guys haven’t figured it out, I’m your new coach. You can call me Coach McNeil or Coach Heather. I don't mind either way.” 

“I thought your last name was Hudson,” the blonde who reminded everyone of the time said. 

“Tabby, stop,” Laura turned sharply to her friend. 

“What?” She raised her hands. “I remember the poster on your wall saying–”

“Not anymore,” Heather let out that smile she gave everyone who made the same mistake in the past few months. “Anyways, I’m sure that all of you guys know each other but I know we must have a few new faces, including my own, so why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves?” 

“I’ll start,” the voice next to her called out as he stepped forward. “My name’s Coach Judd, you can call me Puck, and I’ve been the Comettes assistant coach for five years so I’m sure none of you guys have played a season without me.” 

We turned to the girls who were all avoiding our gazes. Like none of them wanted to be called on. None of them wanted to be the first to speak up. 

“If no one speaks up, then I’ll just have to call off names on the–” 

“Screw it,” the green haired girl mumbled, saving the rest of them from embarrassment. “Hello, my name’s Marrina. I’m a senior this year and I play left wing.” 

She looked over to her left, to the only person who’d already introduced themselves to me. “Okay well, my name’s Laura. Laura Kinney, since there’s two of us this year. Junior, center and team captain.” 

She nudged the blonde next to her. “I was going to anyway. Hi, I’m Alison, also a junior and defender.” 

“Jubilation, but I go by Jubilee,” the next one started without being prompted. “Junior, defender.” 

The flow seemed to catch on as the next blonde introduced herself. “Tabitha, call me Tabby. Another junior, right wing.” 

The attention turned towards the next row, where the line wasn’t as clear cut. The black girl was busy whispering something into the other one’s ear as everyone’s eyes were on them. 

“Yeah, I got you,” she nodded before turning to the rest of them. “Hi, I’m Kara. Sophomore and goalie. This is Laura Dean, she’s a freshman and also plays defense.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. It was a bit weird that she talked to her but by the way that Laura looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor, she decided not to push. There was only one person who wasn’t speaking up. One person who didn’t want to introduce herself. It took a good few seconds of everyone staring before she rolled her eyes and decided to speak up. 

“I’m Jeanne-Marie,” she answered with her arms crossed. “Junior and I don’t know.” 

“You’ve never played before?” Heather asked, which earned her a slow nod. “That’s fine. We all gotta start somewhere. This is my first year coaching so I’m sure that we will all learn a lot this year.” 

The longer she stood there, her back against the glass, the more she realized that she was in over her head. From first impressions, she knew that this was a job for someone with far more experience than she did. A late game challenge she was thrown into before she even got through the tutorial. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t think they had experience. It was just that most of them had this air of apathy about them. That they didn’t care whether or not they won. Hell, maybe she just needed to lower her expectations. 

“Well, to address the obvious, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a team this small,” she let out a slight laugh. “A starting team and two alternates, it’s almost unthinkable but as long as you guys are willing to try then I am too.” 

“We tried to recruit but…” Marrina gestured to the nearly empty bleachers.

“No one wants to hop on The Titanic,” Alison shrugged. 

“Okay well,” she brought out her phone to pull up the schedule, “our first meet is in two weeks which might sound far away but it doesn’t give us a lot of time. We’ve got five practices before then, not including this one. And as dire as you guys might think the situation is, I’d greatly appreciate it if we could come back tomorrow and give it our all, okay?” 

A chorus of okays reached her ears as she put the phone back in her pocket. “Alright, it was great meeting you guys, got a great season ahead of us. I’ll see all you guys tomorrow so be ready and on the ice by 3:30.” 

The second she dismissed them, they started talking amongst themselves. Whatever it was, some after practice plans or general gossip she didn’t need to be privy to any of it. What they got up to after she left them to their devices was none of her business. There was nothing more embarrassing or creepy than a coach who thought they were one of the girls. 

But there was something on her mind. Something no one had bothered to bring up to her. 

“Hey, Puck,” Heather walked up as he was grabbing his bag. 

“Hey,” he smiled up at her. “Did you need something?” 

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “you said something about your guys’ record last year?” 

“Oh yeah,” he let out a laugh. “It’s no wonder the other coach got out of it as soon as he did.” 

“What was it exactly?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over something the girls were talking about behind them. 

“They didn’t tell you?” He looked confused. 

“They didn’t even tell me how many members were on the team until the last minute,” she reminded him. 

“Well sorry if it’s a surprise, but it was 0-10,” he sighed as he admitted it. 

“Zero?!” She practically screamed, which made everyone else stop their conversations. “You mean you guys didn’t…” 

“Nope,” Puck shook his head. 

“Well…” Heather took a deep breath. Not a single game won last year and they had two less team members. She was trying to be optimistic. No, really, she was. But after this… “Thanks.” 

“How can I not?” She sniffled, trying not to cry. There was no use crying about it. “They hate me. We’re supposed to be teammates and they all hate me.” 

“That’s just because they aren’t good teammates, that has nothing to do with you,” she argued, handing her a tissue. “Those little twerps are egomaniacs in training, just like their jackass fathers.” 

“I just don’t get it,” she waved the tissue away. “Coach Jack says I’m good. He says that the team wouldn’t win a game without me and they still said that none of them want me on the team. What do I have to do? How good do I have to be?” 

“Sweetheart, they hate you because you’re good,” she put her hand on her shoulder. “They hate you because they can’t stand that a girl is skating circles around them. Because their dads told them that they should automatically be better than you by virtue of what’s in their pants but they aren’t. They’re intimidated by you, that’s why they’re trying to bully you off the team.” 

“But why would I want to be on a team with people who don’t want me there?” She asked, not looking up from the rainbow dye bleeding into the white ice cream as she still swirled the vortex. “I don’t want to be on a team with them.” 

“You can’t let them win, Heather,” the older woman shook her head. “You’re going to walk into the next practice with your head held high and you’re going to give them plenty more reasons to be intimidated by you because you’re not going to let a couple of snot-nosed twerps ruin hockey for you.”

Heather sighed, sniffing back another tear. The thought of going back there on Thursday, entering the rink to the glares of all the boys on her team, didn’t feel good. But that’s what they wanted. Like everyone else, they wanted her to know her place. They wanted her to believe that she didn’t belong there. She didn’t believe that. 

“You’re not going to quit this, Heather. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” She looked up from her melting ice cream.

“Because the LA Sirens don’t hire any quitters,” she reminded her, lightly tugging on the purple and silver bow she made her. “I’ll talk to Coach Jack about it. Meanwhile, eat your damn ice cream. Your mom would be about ready to kill me if she found out I’m letting you spoil your dinner.” 

Heather couldn’t help but smile as her grandma put her seatbelt on again. As much as she didn’t want to walk back there, she was right. Those boys were only acting tough because they knew they couldn’t beat her. No matter how nasty they were, she was going to walk back in there every time. No matter how hard it was. If she ever wanted to wear that purple and silver jersey, she couldn’t give up. 

~~~✩~~~✩~~~✩~~~

Even after all this time, Heather still wasn’t used to this place. It’s hard to transition from that big suburban mansion in the exclusive gated neighborhood to an economical city apartment. But then again, it wasn’t like she had a choice. 

She had to give up that cushy life. Give up her comfy bed and her rose garden that she was always so proud of. As much as she didn’t want to wake up to all the noises of Toronto, it was just the hand she had left. 

No one would judge her for saying it’s a shitty hand. One that’s bound to lose even with the best poker face she could muster. Compared to the life she used to have, it just seemed quite sad. That’s what all those tabloids were saying anyway. Everyone’s advice was just to ignore them but it’s borderline impossible if she's faced with them every time she tries to get groceries. 

She sighed and threw those drab covers of herself after the third excessive car horn of the morning. Maybe she’d feel better if the apartment wasn’t covered in various shades of greige. Maybe she’d feel better if she didn’t wake up to shooting pain in her leg. Maybe she’d feel better if none of this year happened. 

Still, she had to get up. She had to get to work. As shitty as her life seemed, she was never one to lay down and rot in her misery. The last thing she needed was to lose this too. The only place that was willing to take a chance on her.

She swung her legs over the side of the mattress and almost cursed. Another thing Heather wasn’t quite used to yet. She kept forgetting her leg was borderline useless at this point. Well, not completely useless. She just had to spend 30 minutes stretching every single morning and have hour-long physical therapy sessions twice a week and avoid stairs and avoid walking much at all. Every week she’d ask that doctor if it was ever going to get better. Every week he’d give her a sympathetic smile and say that miracles happened all the time. 

Might as well get used to the pain. It wasn’t like anyone had much faith in it going anywhere. All she could really do was push through. Keep trying to go about her day and act like it wasn’t killing her. 

It didn’t help that she didn’t think about the fact this apartment was on the third floor when she signed the lease. It also didn’t help that the elevator never worked and the landlord didn’t really give a shit. If she told her doctor that, she knew she’d be met with a heavy sigh. But unfortunately for both of them, there wasn’t shit she could do about it. 

A couple seconds, a couple deep breaths, and she stood up. Last year, she would’ve been up and at ‘em almost two hours before this. However, it wasn’t last year. She had no goddamn reason to rise before the sun anymore. 

At least the window had a nice view. As nice as a view of the city could be. She could see the sun. There wasn’t a building obscuring the view of, well, other buildings. Maybe it wouldn’t be as shitty if she was twenty and still had something that resembled optimism. But she wasn’t in her twenties anymore. Now a place like this just felt a bit pathetic. 

Today was a big day. Or at least she was trying to convince herself that it was. First day of hockey practice. She always liked the first day the most. Seeing all the faces, familiar and fresh. Getting a feel for everyone on the team and trying to figure out how the team would mesh together. All that anticipation for the season ahead made her smile like a damn fool. Except now it was different. She wasn’t on the ice anymore. 

It’s only the most classic move. Retire from the pros and go into coaching. Of course, she imagined that she still had a few years and a couple more trophies to knock out before she had to consider it. And she never considered that she’d go so low as to teach high school hockey but a lot happened. A lot changed. For lack of a better term, she was desperate. 

Heather made her way to the kitchen. A far cry from what she was used to for the past fifteen years. God, had it really been that long? Practically half her life dedicated to that man and look where she ended up. Maybe she was just mad that she had to do everything in a damn kitchenette now. She could be mad that she didn’t have the energy to fight for the good blender. Or maybe she was mad that no matter how late she decided to make her breakfast smoothie or how ‘comfortably quiet’ the blender advertised itself to be, her downstairs neighbor always seemed to have a problem with her. 

She took a deep breath and tried to ignore them hitting the ceiling. The almost immediate response told her that they were in fact not asleep. Less than a minute and apparently it was too fucking much for them. 

“Shouldn’t be in a fucking apartment if you can’t stand noise,” she grumbled to herself as she turned it off. The dark purple drink was starting to bore her. The idea of another morning filled with that blueberry banana spinach acai made her want to skip it all together. But she still had a giant bag of that mix left and she wasn’t in much of a position to waste it. 

Skipping breakfast wasn’t an option either. Taking meds on an empty stomach is a mistake she only needed to make once. If a smoothie and two pieces of peanut butter toast prevented her from vomiting in her trashcan, she’d take it with a smile. It was a far cry from what she had been accustomed to but comparing her life to what it was before would only make her more miserable. 

It’s funny, she used to do so much exercise before most people even woke up and now the simple leg stretches felt like a chore. An extremely monotonous and time consuming and worthless chore. She couldn’t really do anything but listen to some playlist or audiobook while she was doing it. And she wasn’t even sure she was doing them right half the time. If these stretches were really helping her leg, then why did it hurt like hell for a good hour after? It would be less effort to just chop it off at this point. 

But she found out quickly through all that therapy she’s been going through on the recommendation of anyone who had a passing conversation with that that was an inside thought. Those stuck up snobs and their leather couches couldn’t take a fucking joke to save their lives. Like it was a crime to not be optimistic about her mess of a life. 

She thought she was doing enough to prove that she was trying. Going to all those appointments, getting a job, not crying the second his name was mentioned. They didn’t need to know everything else that was going on. Like the fact she had to hype herself up to get out of bed in the morning. Like the fact she had to take multiple deep breaths before she walked into that school just to be sure she wasn’t going to break down. 

And if she was in the mood to prove she was trying, it was probably best to try and get to work on time. There were too few hours in the morning. How could she possibly wake up, make breakfast, do her stretches, take care of her plants, make lunch, get dressed, grade those assignments she neglected last night and get there before 7:30am?

There was no use complaining about it really. This was what she signed up for after all. This was what she said she could do. The personal ‘comeback’ to prove to everyone that she wasn’t letting it get to her. All she had to do was throw on her clothes. The black pants she’d been rotating the past few weeks. A green sweater that people always seemed to say looked good on her. She could use the compliments today. 

Tied her hair up on a ponytail and brushed her bangs until they laid right. She never bothered with makeup and wasn’t going to start now. Luckily, she already packed her bag last night. One less thing to worry about before she left for the day. Well, there was one thing she couldn’t forget. God knows the day would be a disaster without it. But as she opened the fridge door she hoped that this wouldn’t set the trend for the day. 

“Need to get some Saturday,” she sighed before grabbing her phone out of her pocket. Typing a simple ‘monster’ on her crude grocery list. As much as she wasn’t trying to spend money, living without her energy drinks would just be torture. 

Luckily, they had some in the vending machine in the teachers lounge. She just needed to delay her caffeine by ten minutes. It wasn’t going to kill her. One set back wasn’t going to ruin her entire day before a lot of people were even up. One deep breath and she opened the front door. 

She knew she should be excited. Not really back in the saddle but it was as close as she was going to get. Coaching was better than nothing. Sitting on the sidelines was better than giving it up entirely. She didn’t dedicate twenty six years of her life to the sport just to lose the thing she loved. 

Maybe it wasn’t going to be bad. Maybe she’ll have a stroke of luck for once. After all the shit she’s been through, surely she was owed an easy time. A competent team that already had their head on their shoulders. Maybe the last coach didn’t quit out of frustration. 

Heather shouldn’t be so worried. It was still eight hours until the practice. She had to get through a full school day before she had to even confront it. And before that she had to drive there to begin with. No use getting ahead of herself. 

She threw her bag on the passenger seat as she hopped into the car. Another downgrade that she had to deal with. Not that it was a real shitbox. Even with all the misfortune that seemed to find her, she knew she still had it better than most people. It was just hard to be grateful for what she still had when everything reminded her of what she didn’t. 

Just a short drive. A short drive and then she’d have her energy drink and she could give today a fair shot. Nothing has gone wrong so far. She really had no reason to act as grumpy as she had been. 

All she had to do was put on a couple songs and let all those thoughts fall to the wayside. How was she ever going to teach those kids if she couldn’t stop feeling sorry for herself?  How was she ever going to get past this if she couldn’t even go to work? No she could. She could do this. She told everyone that she could do this. 

Her therapist told her to find things to be happy about. Find things to be grateful for. Things that didn’t remind her of everything. She still had her music. She could play it more now that Mac wasn’t here to bitch about it. Traffic wasn’t as bad as she was anticipating. She could still get her white monster. Well, she could in theory.

“Goddammit,” she mumbled to herself as she stared into the cold harsh light of the vending machine. More specifically at the can that got itself stuck between the shelf and glass. The last thing she needed, really. Practically wasting 3 dollars and not even hitting the machine was making it budge. 

“That one’s the problem child,” A voice called out from behind her as she sighed in frustration. “Always trying to steal everyone’s money.” 

“She’s succeeding so far,” Heather turned and saw the taller woman walking towards her. 

“You gotta hit it a specific way,” she explained, bringing her fist down on the top corner, almost instantly freeing the can from the compromising position. “Trust me, we’ve been trying to get them to replace it for years at this point.” 

“And they just won’t?” She leaned down to grab the savior of her mood. 

“I’m pretty sure they’re gunning on the unsuspecting staff to put in their money and have no one to so bravely save them,” she smiled at her. “A wicked scheme.” 

“Well, thank you for your valiant dedication to me and my wallet, Wanda,” she laughed as she stood back up. “Where would I ever be without you?” 

“You’d be down a white monster, first of all,” she joked. “But there’s no need to thank me, I know first hand that the first practice of a season is going to be a disaster if you don’t get your caffeine.” 

“So I should be worried?” 

“Well, my first year with the football team I’m pretty sure they had a ranking of who could prank me the most,” Wanda started to explain, “but surely the hockey girls aren’t the right mix of immature and intense to plan something like that.” 

“That instills me with so much confidence,” she joked as they made their way out of the teacher’s lounge. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, I mean what’s the worst they could do?” 

“Famous last words,” she shook her head. “You’d be surprised, it’s like they drop new methods to piss us off every day.”

“As long as they don’t call me Mrs. Hudson, I’ll survive,” she sighed. 

“Oh, please, for about a full year after I came out, it’s like they were dedicated to calling me Ms. Langkowski,” she laughed. “I mean, if I knew that transitioning would negate all my degrees I would’ve thought about it a bit harder.” 

The halls were still empty. Still about fifteen minutes before the students started to pour in. It always weirded her out to be the only person walking down the hall. Like she wasn’t supposed to be out here. Of course she was, it just took some time to get used to this whole teaching thing. 

It wasn’t that bad, she supposed. Got some use out of that English degree she tried to convince everyone was essential. When she got it, she didn’t imagine this was the way she’d use it. When she was twenty something she couldn’t even conceive that this would be her life. 

“You really have nothing to worry about,” Wanda reassured her before they reached the STEM hall, “I’ve taught and for lack of a better word, experienced most of them and they’re good kids.” 

That thought might be even more ridiculous. They both knew that they could never really leave it behind. But they were still trying. Found some semi-rural town. A nice one. One with people that wouldn’t stare at them like they had two heads. One that had a nice house for sale. A nice house for a decent price with a nice sunny yard. The yard had to be sunny. 

And they found one. It was a bit of a fixer upper but it was too nice to say no to. Two stories with some historic charm. A bigger yard than she ever had before. A river sitting right on the edge of it. It was perfect. They agreed on that. A perfect place to start a new life. A quiet life. 

But it still didn’t feel right. Heather didn’t know why it didn’t feel right. There wasn’t any specific reason. If it was, then she could fix it and it would be fine. If it was the color of the living room, she could paint it. If it was the yard, then she could neglect the rest of the house and she could fix it. 

But there wasn’t anything wrong, it just felt wrong. A sinking feeling that none of this was going to help her. No matter how much hope she had that it was going to work out, she couldn’t shake those thoughts out of her head. 

Her old life was not something that they could just walk away from. All those years of fighting villains. Putting everything she had into that team. Representing something that she never wanted to. All because of Mac. All because she loved that man. All because she told herself she loved that man. 

Did she ever love him? Was what she felt considered love? As much as it pained her to admit it, she wasted fifteen years of her life living a lie. She threw herself at the first man who gave her a passing glance and never gave it a second thought. And she stayed. Even when she knew it wasn’t right, she stayed. 

Why did she stay? Because she was a coward? Because she was too scared that no one else would like her if she left? Because she didn’t know who she was without him? Because it’s been so long that it just felt normal? 

Hell, even when he died she still couldn’t leave him. Not fully. The rest of the team tried setting her up on dates once they decided that it’s been enough time. That she’s been sad enough and she was depressing to look at. As if her grief had a timeline. As if she should just get over it. As if another man could fix all of these problems. 

But they weren’t right. Her problem was that she wasn’t used to not standing behind someone. Her problem was that she never tried to step up before that fact. Her problem was that she didn’t like sleeping alone at night. Her problem was that she didn’t know how to be a singular person and finding someone else would do nothing but contribute to those problems. 

And the more dates she went on, the less sure she was. All she wanted to do was help the team. Replace the leader that they lost. And those men that she sat across wouldn’t help with that goal. And she didn’t like the way they looked at her. And she couldn’t stand the way they talked to her. As if they were doing her a favor by even agreeing to a dinner. As if she should be grateful they’d go so low as to consider her. 

She’d try to hide it. Tried to act like she was fine to everyone’s face. Lie and say she had a good time. Convinced everyone that all this effort meant something. Then she’d go up to her room, lock the door, and cry. 

She couldn’t help but think that it was her. If she just put some more effort in then they wouldn’t be practically repulsed by her. If she just did her make up or got rid of her giant glasses then they’d fall at her feet. Not that she thought she looked bad. She looked like her. Like she always did. But if it wasn’t something as surface level as her appearance, what was it? 

She never really understood what it was that made other people put off by her. She never understood why they’d look at her like she wasn’t getting something obvious. She never understood why those girls at recess would laugh whenever she said something. She never understood why she didn’t have friends, why no one wanted to hang out with her, why she was just too different. All she understood was that she wasn’t normal. All she understood was that there was something repulsive about her that she just couldn’t see. 

But she didn’t want to explain that to everyone. She didn’t want to offload every single one of her problems on people who already had full plates. Hell, she already had a full enough plate without dumping more on it. So she tried to push it down. Tried to fit it neatly in a box and put that box somewhere where it didn’t matter. And that worked for her. That worked for everyone else. There was only one person who’d look in the corner and see that box was bulging at the seams with fifty layers of tape trying to hold it together. 

It started small. Some nights Heather would be sitting on the couch, reading some book she found at the grocery store. Wanda would sit next to her. Not to ask her about something. Not to pry about how she was doing. Just sat down in the same space she was in with no expectation of anything more. 

After so much change, she felt familiar. The only person she felt like she could talk to at times. The only person on the team that wouldn’t dismiss her or demean her. The only person who cared about her beyond the fact she was their leader. 

She didn’t have to be the Vindicator with her. She didn’t have to be anyone. She didn’t have to try and impress anyone. She didn’t have to explain exactly what she meant. When her head was on Wanda’s shoulder, she could just be. 

And it became something more. That closeness evolved into more than quiet companionship. The lines got blurred and they both willingly crossed it. And it felt nice. It felt better than it ever felt with Mac. 

But then he came back and everyone looked at her. Everyone looked at her and expected her to do the same thing. Expected her to disavow everything she felt about Wanda and run back into his arms. Try to put herself back to the place she knew wasn’t made for her. 

To their credit, she did go back. Went right back to him. Not because she thought it would feel right. Not because she had forgotten what she felt towards Wanda. Only because she knew what everyone wanted her to do. Only because she was too much of a coward to say no. 

And she stayed there. Smiled like she was happy. Ignored that feeling that she was betraying herself because she was too scared of what others would think if she left him for Wanda. Relegated all those feelings for the few nights when she’d go back to her.

She knew it was wrong. She knew that it only hurt everyone. But the only other options were being subjected to the judgement of the entire country or losing Wanda. She’d go back to her and say that she just needed time. Time to get her nerve up and hand him those papers. Find enough courage to cut and run from the only life she’s known for so long by that point. 

Wanda was so patient with her. So understanding of everything that Heather was putting her through. Saying that she loved her, that she wanted a life with her and then relegating her to secrecy. And she mistook her patience for tolerance. Her understanding for complacency. And she took that as a reason to never take the steps. 

She hurt her. She gave her every reason to cut it off completely. She’d have every reason to laugh in her face when she came back and said that she was leaving him. Despite how Wanda liked to talk about it whenever Heather tried to apologize about it, she knew that it was true. 

The truth didn’t change because they left it all behind. The guilt wasn’t expunged with every kiss she gave her when she left for work. In spite of reality, that sinking feeling that she hurt her beyond repair kept creeping back. 

No matter what she told herself, it still didn’t feel right. It felt good. She felt loved. Secure and wanted. It should feel right. She wanted this, they both did. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t have any regrets. It wasn’t even that it didn’t live up to her expectations. She didn’t know what it was.

She never thought she’d get to have a rose garden. It was either she didn’t have the money or she didn’t have the time or that the yard wasn’t big enough or that they were renting so what’s the point or why do you care so much. For years, she put it in the box of silly useless dreams. Going to nurseries whenever she had some free time. Whenever she had time for herself that was. Mac always huffed if they went together. Asked what the point was as if she needed a point at all. 

She’d walk around and look at all the roses in bloom. Taking pictures of the particularly pretty ones and writing down the names. Picturing where she’d plant them. Smiling at how pretty they’d look when that time of the year came around. 

Wanda thought her insistence on a sunny yard was a bit dramatic at first. She could tell that she’d try to hold back a laugh when she said that it was a dealbreaker. Of course, that was before she knew about the roses. About that dream Heather had always put off. 

After that, she was more serious about it than Heather was. Looking into the best conditions they could grow in. Finding places with better soil. And it felt nice. And she felt guilty. 

She was willing to do so much for her and she had taken her for granted for so long. She’d given her all the grace in the world and it still took until she was at the end of her rope until Heather finally took action. That wasn’t fair to her. She didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t right. 

“Hey, honey bun,” Wanda made her jump as she planted a kiss on her cheek. Through all her spiralling thoughts, she didn’t hear her come in. “Did I sneak up on you?” 

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” Heather reassured her as her arm draped across her. “How was your day?” 

“Better now that I’m back home,” she hummed, leaning into her. “How about you?” 

“I was just working on some stuff around the house,” she shrugged, getting a faint waft of her perfume. “The backsplash mainly.” 

“Ooh,” she looked over at the kitchen to see those mosaic tiles that were clearly still a work in progress. “They look perfect.” 

“They’re only half way done,” she let out a slight laugh. “My hands started cramping, I have to finish them some time over the weekend.” 

“Well, there’s no rush,” Wanda reassured her as she walked towards the coat closet to put her things away. 

“Except there is because we can’t use the counters until I’m done,” she argued. It was more trouble than it was worth. All that effort for something that was only aesthetic. She didn’t even know why she decided to do it right now when the master bathroom sink was still giving them trouble. 

“Oh noo, we can’t cook tonight? The absolute horror!” She joked which made Heather roll her eyes. “I’ll help you tomorrow but we’re lucky that we won’t have to use those counters until then.”

“Oh yeah…” Through all those circles she thought herself into today she had forgotten all about their plans. The ones that she had agreed to a week ago. Going to that pizza place downtown and seeing that movie Wanda was talking about. God, she couldn’t even remember the name of it. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Her face changed to one of concern as she walked back over to her. 

“I’m fine, babe,” she tried to dismiss her concern. “The day got away from me. I just have to get ready and everything.” 

“Heather, we don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it,” she took her spot next to her on the couch. 

“No, I promise I’m fine,” she tried to get up but Wanda grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to worry about me. I just got to–” 

“You don’t seem fine,” she insisted, gently pulling her back down on the couch. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” she denied it again. “You’ve been talking about it all week, I don’t want to ruin it for you.” 

“You’re not ruining anything, honey,” Wanda squeezed her hand. “I don’t care about going out. I know that there’s something bothering you.” 

“It’s nothing,” Heather repeated herself. “I don’t want you to think that–” 

“Hey, we said we’d talk, right?” She reminded her. “It’s obvious that something’s going on, please, just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she finally admitted as Wanda. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I don’t know how to explain it but everything just feels wrong and I don’t know why. And it’s confusing and frustrating because I want this. It’s all I ever wanted but I can’t go a day without feeling dread and I can’t–” 

“Slow down a bit,” she moved closer to her. “What do you mean it feels wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” she repeated as the tears started to prick at the corner of her eyes. “I can’t explain it. It’s not that I regret this because I don’t. I mean, I love you and I want to be with you and this is everything I’ve ever wanted but every time I look out the window I just– I don’t know.” 

“You know, you don’t have to be fine all the time,” Wanda reminded her, wiping a tear that was falling down her cheek. “It’s a big change. You’re allowed to have a rough time with it. I never expected that we’d just snap into position immediately. It hasn’t even been a month since we moved in.” 

“I know that,” she leaned onto her shoulder. The only place she’s felt safe for a long time. “I just feel like I should be happy. I mean, I am happy. I wouldn’t change a thing but all I can think about is what happened.” 

“I don’t want you to beat yourself up about it,” she shook her head. “What happened happened. The only thing dwelling on it is going to do is make you feel guilty about something–” 

“I don’t know how to stop feeling guilty,” Heather interrupted her. “I know that we’ve talked about it and you’re not holding it against me but that doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you. No matter what either of us say, it won’t change that.” 

“You’re right, nothing will change what happened,” she pulled her tighter against her. “You can’t change how things turned out, I can’t change the way I hid how I felt, we can’t fix everything that got caught in the crossfire. All we can do is keep going forward.” 

“What you did isn’t comparable to what I did,” that was her whole issue. She didn’t treat Wanda like she mattered until she cracked. She was selfish and a coward. Even now, she could only think about what she felt. She could only remember how she went home and cried until she threw up. She could only remember how she had a panic attack when she was parked outside that lawyer’s office. She could only remember how foolish she felt when she told her that she was leaving him. 

And she could only remember how she hugged her. As if all was forgiven. As if all those years of relegating her to secrecy didn’t matter anymore. If she was being honest or pretending, she didn’t know. All she knew is that every time Wanda pushed it under the bridge it made it harder for her to pretend. 

“I’m not keeping score,” she kissed her forehead. “And I know I can’t change what you feel about it, all I can do is tell you that it doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter because I love you and I chose to forgive you.” 

She didn’t deserve her forgiveness. She didn’t deserve to have a shoulder to cry on. She didn’t deserve this house or that rose garden. She didn’t deserve the woman who was so willing to her grace that she could never give herself. 

She deserved to be alone. It would only be right considering how many people she ended up hurting. She hurt Mac and she hurt the team and she burned every single bridge she had ever crossed. It seems like all she ever knew how to do was cut and run. Run so fast that no one had the chance to catch up. Run away from all the consequences. Run until she had nothing that reminded her of everything she was running from. 

But she couldn’t run from Wanda. She couldn’t leave and forget about the pain she had caused. She couldn’t dismiss her attempts to reach out. And with all that, she couldn’t pretend that her problems didn’t exist anymore. It was harder to lie to someone who cared. 

“The garden’s going to look so pretty in bloom,” Wanda shifted the conversation away after a minute or two of silence. 

“I don’t know, they’re still young,” Heather sighed, looking out the window at those scraggly bushes they planted last week. Barely starting to bud. “It’s going to be a few years until they grow out of that awkward teenager stage.” 

“It’s still going to be pretty,” she hummed. “And it will only get prettier every single year. That's the good part about plants like that.” 

She was right, Heather supposed. She just needed to give them time. Even if it didn’t look like everything she ever dreamed about now, come May the roses will bloom and she won’t even remember how sparse they looked in that moment. All the colors, just where she planned them to be. The exact varieties that she had coveted for years. Well, and another one. 

She didn’t like them at first. Her vision was more traditional. Reds, pinks, and whites. When Wanda walked over with one that described itself as silvery lilac, she immediately shot them down. It was too out there. It wasn’t what she imagined. 

But Wanda liked them. Despite the fact they weren’t even budding and the only reference for the color was a sunfaded picture, she said that they were her favorite. She put them on that flat cart despite Heather’s protests. Called her The Queen of Hearts too for dramatic effect. Leaving her with all the work to find out where they’d fit in her vision. 

Not with the dramatic reds or the bright pinks. No, they wouldn’t compliment those. They’d stick out like a sore thumb next to the soft, pure whites she grabbed. But she couldn’t just leave them out on the edge of the garden. Away from all the other roses. That wouldn’t be fair to them. It wouldn’t be fair to Wanda.

She turned the already full cart around and headed back to the pink section. Looking for something different than the ones that she had previously grabbed. Something paler. More muted. Something that would make those Blue Girls look like they belonged. 

Of course, Wanda laughed at her determination to make something she didn’t even want in the first place fit into her vision. Maybe there was something comedic about it. She’d walked past those roses hundreds of times at this point and never gave them a passing glance. But those hundreds of times were before Wanda said that she liked them. 

“We can still go to the movie if you want,” Heather offered, looking up at her to see she was still looking out the window. 

“Nah, the reviews aren’t that good anyway,” she let out a soft sigh.

“Well, people don’t know art when it’s staring them in the face,” she shrugged. “I know you really wanted to see it, babe.” 

“I wasn’t excited to see the movie, I was excited to spend time with you,” Wanda planted a kiss on her forehead. “How about this: We order in, we put on a movie and we don’t leave the couch for the rest of the night.” 

“And what movie?” She asked, scooting closer as if it was possible. 

“Luckily we have so many to choose from because someone was smart enough to see the value of a John Waters boxset.” 

“When are you gonna stop mentioning the boxset?” Heather laughed. 

“When you admit that it’s a good investment,” Wanda rolled her eyes. 

“I never said it wasn’t!” She defended herself as her girlfriend got up to grab her phone from the console table. 

“Yeah, but you laugh every time,” even if she was trying not to, she couldn’t hold back a smile. “And I’m sorry, Heather, but there’s nothing funny about appreciating queer cinema.” 

“Oh, whatever,” she got up off the couch too. She’d been sitting too long and started to feel restless. Mac always made fun of her tendency to walk laps around the kitchen. Said that it weirded him out whenever she did it. Wanda didn’t seem to notice. If she did, she didn’t mind. 

The kitchen window had a better view of the rose bushes. They were starting to show their colors day by day. The petals were pushing their way out of the buds. Even if it didn’t immediately beat those expectations she had built up over years of dreaming, she knew that it would. 

All it would take was some care. A good watering regime and a healthy diet of rose food. And it would take some time. One day she’d look out the window and she wouldn’t feel that tinge of disappointment because this was what she wanted. 

The house wouldn’t have twenty things that needed her attention. The garden would be in full bloom. She wouldn’t think about everything that happened before. She’d be here, living the life she always wanted, with Wanda by her side. 

She looked out at those two bushes next to each other. Flanked on either side by those dramatic reds and vibrant pinks and soft whites. The pale pink and silvery lilac she decided to plant front and center. 

She hadn’t told Wanda where she planted them. Put them in the ground when she was at work. Of course, Wanda teased her and theorized that she must’ve put them as far away from her roses as possible. 

No matter what we called them, they never stopped coming. They never stopped trying to talk to me at the grocery store. I never stopped yelling at them. I didn’t care what they’d say about me, I wasn’t going to divulge our trauma for their dumb podcasts. 

I didn’t like the media attention. In fact, I hated it. The last thing I wanted was to turn on my TV and hear people talking about me. For the first few months it was entirely unavoidable. I had to stop myself from throwing my phone at various walls multiple times. 

I don’t know if I could’ve done it without everyone. Without Wanda coming over more nights than not. Without Marrina offering some ample distraction. Puck somehow finding time to bother me despite the fact I quit the day it happened. And I had to mention all those neighbors stepping up to practically bankroll us when it was still hard to go outside. 

I never gave a public statement about what happened. I didn’t feel the need to. Those investigators from Vancouver took over when everything went to shit. I told them the truth. They wrote it down and closed the case. Patted themselves on the back for a job well done. 

And they said it was over. Keeping the finer details sealed in some big filing cabinet. Nothing more to say about it. Nothing more to do. Their job was done and we were left to pick up all the pieces when so many people were trying to snatch anything they could. The fire was out, someone else could deal with the ashes. 

Madison stepped down soon after it happened. Let some deputy that I always hated take over. I was just lucky that I didn’t work there anymore. He left town, leaving almost everything behind and drove east. Despite all the anger that I still held, there was part of me that hoped he could someday move past this. 

The Beaubier twins didn’t stay much longer either. Moved back to Quebec as soon as that big house sold. I didn’t blame them one bit. After everything this town had put them through, I was surprised that they didn’t light a match and not look back. They did send me some cookies over the holidays. You’d think I wouldn’t pick up random packages on my porch anymore but they were good. 

That house was bought by some asshole hockey player. Used it as some summer vacation home and left it abandoned for nine months out of the year. A house like that deserved more but the less we all had to deal with rich assholes the better. 

It was strange. In the wake of what felt like complete destruction, John’s Harbor managed to catch a second wind. Any press is good press, I suppose. For everyone that left, their spot was immediately filled again. It made me laugh how people were clamoring to live in the murder town. Surely, not that much had changed. 

As hard as it was, I eventually got back on my feet. Staring at the wall and being scared of your own shadow gets quite boring after a while. Mr. McCormick offered me a job at the hardware store. Told me it was a lot less stressful than the station. I could come and go as I pleased, no pressure. 

They’d have to get my head checked if I said no to something like that. I really just needed a change of pace and scenery. Spending my days shooting the shit with retired men that had too much free time beats overthinking alone in my house. And besides, I had another mouth to feed now. 

I made good on my promise to Marrina to get a giant beast in the house. Mrs. McCormick made good on that promise to put a good word in with her cousin. By April, we drove down to Vancouver with the sole purpose of meeting some puppies. 

That spring litter she was telling me about wasn’t great danes. We only found that out when we had already driven half way there. I could tell that Marrina was a bit disappointed when she so casually broke the news. Part of the reason we were driving down was to try and find the second coming of Hamlet and finding out that wasn’t in the cards was about as disappointing as anything. 

But when we pulled up to the house and saw all those fluffy white puppies chasing each other in the yard, any reservation we might’ve had vanished. I was always quite fond of the great pyrenees. Felt like they suited me.

After at least an hour of playing with them, watching them tumble over each other, we decided on the girl with the green collar that kept trying to bite Wanda’s hair. Hopefully that wouldn’t be indicative of further trends.

Much debate on the ride home and the few nights after led to the name Phoebe. It just seemed right for her. Of course, it didn’t take long for the name to devolve. Marrina started calling her Phoebus which then morphed into Beebus which naturally turned into Beebee which slowly changed into Bieber and obviously that became Biebs which is how we finally ended with her responding to Beep. 

The line was a bit harder to explain to Wanda when I was on the phone telling her to get off the counter. Her opinion was that it wasn’t right for such a majestic and noble dog with a strong name getting called Beep. She wasn’t entirely wrong but it was still a funny conversation. 

For most of the year, Phoebe was my only companion in the house. Wanda went back to Montreal in July. Marrina left for college in August. We had a few good talks about it. If she felt like she was ready to live by herself after everything that happened. Making sure she knew that a gap year or online school was always an option. She reassured me that this was what she wanted. Also added that she’d go insane if she had to listen to me and Puck sit in the yard listening to a Jimmy Buffett CD any longer. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was an exclusively summer activity that she’d have to be subjected to again when she got back. 

I wasn’t complaining, of course. Phoebe turned out to be a great companion. As stubborn as she could be at times, it wasn’t like I didn’t throw it right back at her. We managed to keep each other's attitudes in check. I took her to work more days than not. She was adored by almost everyone who stepped in even if she acted like she didn’t care. 

Some days she even managed to get some play time with her cousin Hamlet. Had to tell them to stop roughhousing plenty of times when I sat behind the register. They did manage to get along well. Except when they decided tug-o-war was the game of the day. Then Phoebe would always come to me whining because she never managed to beat his strategy of just laying down on the floor. 

Even if we did butt heads at times, I had to admit that getting her was one of the best choices I made. If I didn’t have her, I don’t know how I would’ve survived these last few months. After everything that happened, I didn’t know if I could cope with being alone. What would I do if I was scared? If the nightmares came back? If I had days where it was hard to take care of myself? 

I would have to push through, of course. Just like I did during those months. Still, it was nice that when I woke up screaming from a nightmare I could hear the pitter patter of her claws on the stairs as she walked up to my room. Giving me a look of annoyance for waking her up before jumping up on the bed and sprawling out any place that wasn’t directly occupied by my body. 

I wondered if she’d be pissed when Wanda comes back and steals that spot away from her. Maybe she’d be relieved that someone else could look after her crazy mama and she could just continue getting the loveseat gross with her fur. Maybe she’d think it’d be more efficient to just lay on top of the both of us. 

We debated it a lot. As much as I said I didn’t want it at first, I missed her. More than anything. Maybe I’m just slow to this whole love thing. Maybe Wanda was the only person I had the capacity to love. Maybe we were just bonded like two cats at the pet store that had to be bought together. Whatever it was, it was hard on both of us to be this far apart. 

I took a trip over to Montreal in the fall. If it wasn’t for Wanda, I would’ve hated every second of it. I wasn’t built for the city. Too much noise, too much chaos, too many people that would judge me for my bright yellow house. But this was where her life was. I couldn’t ask her to uproot everything when she had a hell of a lot more to lose than I did. 

I didn’t ask, she just offered. Traded her research job and fancy city apartment for a high school teaching position in Westpoint and a pillow right next to mine. No matter how much I tried to tell her it wasn’t worth it, she wouldn’t budge. I guess she wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her.

“The town seems a hell of a lot more lively than it did last year,” she sighed as we sat down on those lawn chairs in the yard. “I couldn’t even count the people that were just walking around downtown.” 

“I guess the only thing you need to revive a dying town is an overly publicized murder case,” I joked, watching Phoebe play with the new toy Wanda bought her. “That dog’s spoiled rotten, I’ll tell you.” 

“What’s the point of having a dog if you don’t spoil them?” She laughed and put her arm around me. “She’s a lot like you, you know.” 

“I’m well aware,” I gave her a light shove. “I’ve always thought that they matched my temperament.” 

“Then maybe it’s a good thing that Linda didn’t tell us until we already drove an hour and a half,” she shrugged. 

“Well, if we had a great dane then I’m sure Marrina would’ve wanted them to act exactly like Hamlet…” I trailed off when I felt a vibration in my pants pocket. “Speaking of–”

“Is Hamlet giving you a call?” 

“Yeah, he’s saying that Phoebe is too much of a pussy to play tug-o-war with him anymore,” my joke made Phoebe stop for a second and look at me. “No, Marrina’s gonna be here in about an hour and she’s asking if we want clam chowder with or without bacon.” 

“Bacon isn’t kosher,” she shook her head. 

“Neither is clam chowder, babe,” I laughed, texting her to get two regular bowls. 

“That’s something entirely different,” she argued. 

“Why? Because you want to eat it?” 

“Exactly,” she laughed as I leaned into her. “I forgot how peaceful it was out here.” 

“Mhm,” I agreed. The backyard was always so calm. Just the perfect amount of sun and shade in the afternoon. If you listened you could hear anything. The birds in the trees just beyond the fence. The ocean waves crashing against the beach. Phoebe biting down on the toy’s squeaker like that bitch owed her money. “It’s better with you here.” 

“Really?” She smiled at me as I nodded. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not planning on going anywhere.” 

“A very good thing.” I sighed. It seems like so much has changed in the year since it all went down. The faces I see in the grocery store. The people I talk to everyday at work. The way people looked at me when I walked around town. But even if everything changes, it’s good to have some consistency. 

It was nice that Wanda didn’t have to leave again. That we could have plenty more nights just like this one. Plenty more nights like the ones we had when we first met too. Was it ridiculous to say she was the only person I could see spending my life with? I could come home to her every single day and never get tired. She just felt right. Her arm over my shoulder felt right. A whole lot more of her felt right too. 

Part of me felt guilty about the peace in moments like these. Those three girls would never get peace like this. Maybe they found something else in whatever comes after. Heaven, reincarnation, the countless other interpretations of the after life. Maybe they were simply twinkling among the stars. Whatever it was, I hope it was better than the fate they were subjected to. 

Maybe it won’t hurt as much tomorrow. Maybe she could go back with a giant smile on her face. Who was she kidding? She never wanted to see any of them again. She had enough pride to never show her face at that damn hotel again. Which was the whole reason she was here. Miles from the city, looking for anywhere that was cheap and most importantly had a vacant room.

She took the bus as far as it would take her. Someone told her that there was a motel just off the highway. Just about a mile from the end of the line. She didn’t have enough money for the taxi ride so she just took her suitcase and started walking. 

And it was like God was trying to punish her. Make her pay for thinking she could ever do this whole ‘career woman’ schtick. Just as she started walking down that road lined almost completely with pine trees, the heavens decided to dump the whole ocean onto her. 

It took everything she had not to breakdown sobbing as the first droplets hit the top of her head. Just what she needed. The cherry on top of a fan-fucking-tastic day. And she still had three quarters of a mile to walk. If she was even heading in the right direction. 

“Alright, Heather,” she took a deep breath, “you can either stay in the rain and feel sorry for yourself or walk on.” 

Hey, no one else was going to give her the pep talk. No one else was going to make her walk. No one else was going to drag that suitcase down the rough asphalt. Was there anything she needed to keep in that suitcase anyway? Could she just leave it on the side of the road? 

She debated leaving her shoes too. The so-called sensible kitten heels were anything but. However, she didn’t want to walk into that motel looking like some vagrant. The last thing she needed was to be denied at the door. It was either this or sleeping at some bus stop. She didn’t need to be a genius to understand why the latter was a bad idea. 

After what felt like an eternity, she saw a sign peaking out from behind the evergreen trees. She couldn’t see very well with all the rain obscuring her glasses but she saw enough. She saw the word motel and she saw the neon sign didn’t have the ‘no’ turned on. 

She could’ve fallen to her knees right on the side of the road. She could’ve cried out in relief. But both of those would increase the time she would be assaulted by the rain. God, her shirt must be see-throw at this point. The receptionist would probably think that she looked insane. 

Her bangs were sticking straight to her forehead. So much for all that effort she put into getting them to lay just perfect this morning. It wasn’t even the biggest one of her problems at the moment. She could feel the blisters developing on her heels. She could feel every article of clothing molding themselves onto her skin. And most importantly, she couldn’t see anything with all the raindrops that made a home on her glasses. 

It wasn’t much longer until the motel. Really, it was only just a few steps until she reached the parking lot. And once she reached the parking lot, it was only a few more steps until she reached the door. Or at least reached some sort of awning. As long as she was out of the rain. 

Even through her now useless glasses and the oppressive grayness of the storm, she could gather a few things about this place. It seemed very vintage. Like a time capsule from a bygone age of motor hotels. It also seemed a bit cutesy as well. If she wasn’t mistaken, the outside was painted pale pink. Seemed a bit strange to her. Well, not exactly strange, per se. Maybe the word she was looking for was unique. 

The semantics didn’t really matter right now. She was making quick time to what must be the front door, dragging her suitcase right behind her. There was no way it couldn’t be. The double doors were painted a more vibrant color of pink with little stained glass heart windows. 

“How charming,” she grumbled. She hoped this clear theming wasn’t going to increase the price of a room. Her wallet was running extremely thin and the last thing she needed was to walk in and find out the rooms were some ridiculous price. 

“Good evening, miss,” the receptionist called out from behind the desk the second the bell rang. “How can I help you?” 

“Yeah, umm…” Heather started, dragging the wet wheels of her suitcase across the bright carpet. In any other circumstances she would’ve been more considerate. Right now, she was completely and utterly over it. “I just need a room for the night.” 

“Wait a sec,” she said, reaching for something under her desk. Taking a few seconds before producing a microfiber cloth. “Here. It’s real nasty outside, isn’t it?” 

“That’s one way to put it,” she sighed as the lady started typing something on her computer. She didn’t need to be told twice to wipe off her glasses. 

“Are you alone here, sweetheart?” She asked as Heather put her glasses back on. Finally giving her a good view of the place around her. The receptionist desk looked just as kitschy as she assumed it would. Covered in red and pink and a bunch of hearts. God, that old lady did really point her to some attraction when she was looking for a Motel 6. 

Some themed motel that happened to employ one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Maybe it was her big curly blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Or her fashionable catseye glasses. Or her soft pink lipstick. Or that bright red blouse that wasn’t buttoned up all the way. By the looks of her chest, she wasn’t sure if it could. 

“Uh, yeah,” Heather smiled, trying to snap out of it. She didn’t need to ogle the receptionist. No matter how captivating she might seem, it was rude. She probably already embarrassed herself enough by the state she was in. 

“Meeting someone?” 

“No…” Her line of questioning confused her. Was it normal to ask if someone was alone before they rented a room? Was it just a little quirk that… What was her name? She took the risk of looking down at her chest again to read her nametag. Was it just something that Wanda asked? 

“Okay,” she nodded, typing something else into the computer. “I do have to tell you if we suspect that you’re either selling or soliciting sexual services, we are legally obligated to call the police.” 

“I’m sorry?” She was taken aback. 

“It’s just something we have to tell people who come in alone,” Wanda smiled at her like anything she said was normal. 

“Do you think that I look like a prostitute or something?” Heather crossed her arms. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” she raised her hand, “it’s just a bit unusual to see people come in here alone and intending to stay that way.” 

“Is this not a motel?” She asked. The last thing she wanted to deal with was this runaround. Surely, it wasn’t that weird for her to come in alone. 

“It is,” Wanda confirmed, “but, are you–” 

“Is there some sort of rule?” She argued. “Do you guys not rent rooms to single people?” 

“We do,” she nodded, “I just think that you might–” 

“So what’s the problem?” Heather interrupted her again. 

“There’s no problem, sweetheart,” she could see her trying to hold back a laugh. “But do you know what this place is?” 

“You just told me that it’s a motel,” she groaned. “Listen, I’m not trying to be rude but I just had a shitty day and apparently this is the only place to stay, so can I get a room or not?”  

“As long as you’re over eighteen,” Wanda took a deep breath as Heather wasted no time slamming her ID down on the counter. After giving it a quick look over, she asked another question. “Were you looking for a specific room?” 

“Whatever’s the cheapest,” she sighed. 

“And just one night?” She looked up at her as she nodded. “Alright, that’ll just be fifty even.” 

Heather ran through the bills in her wallet, lucky that she still had two twenties and a ten. She knew skipping breakfast would turn out to be a good idea. Left her with just enough money for a place to stay. No matter how many weird questions the receptionist seemed to have. 

“Thank you,” Wanda smiled at her again before getting up and heading to the back wall. Only then could she see her hot pink mini skirt that the blouse was tucked into. And as if she couldn’t find another attractive quality about her, she was tall as well. Tall and very clearly in better shape than she could ever dream of being in. 

God, what was she doing behind the receptionist desk at a motel? Surely, she could do a lot more. She was the type of woman that was only conceptual. As close to Venus from the shell as she would ever see. She could sell magazines with just her face. She could be desired by anyone who looked at her. And yet, here she was. 

She tried not to stare. No, really, she tried not to. Especially when she was reaching up to grab the key from the top row of hooks. Specifically when her skirt rode up ever so slightly to reveal where her pale pink stockings were attached to her garters. Definitely when she turned around and their eyes met again. 

“Room 205, second floor,” she slid the key across the counter to her, showing off her perfectly manicured nails. “If you need anything else, sweetheart, just come down and ask.” 

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper out as she tried to calm down. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. She was so focused on getting out of there, she didn’t even see the way that Wanda was looking at her. 

All she wanted was to get to her room. Get to her room and have a good cry. She was in desperate need of a good cry. She was in desperate need of a lot of things. Some respect. Some balm for her pride. Something to prove that her life didn’t suck as much as she felt like it did. 

Her suitcase felt like it was filled with rocks as she lugged it up the stairs. Heather knew it was just because she was tired. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on top of that bed. Collapse on some cheap bed and forget that the rest of the world existed. 

But as she opened the door, Wanda’s questions suddenly made sense. She looked over to see the roadsign.

Lovebirds Couple’s Retreat. 

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Heather,” she sighed. She almost couldn’t believe that sweet old lady pointed her to some sort of love motel. She almost couldn’t believe she didn’t figure it out before she opened the door and saw that heart-shaped bed. 

It was just her luck. Really, it was only natural that she found herself here. It made perfect sense that she didn’t see the name on the sign and embarrassed herself. God knows the world wasn’t about to give her a break. 

There wasn’t anything she could do about it. She wasn’t going to go back down to the desk and say she changed her mind. She already made a big enough fool out of herself. Besides, she was too spent to try and find another place to stay. 

A heart-shaped bed was better than no bed at all, she supposed. She could still sleep on it even if that wasn’t its sole intended purpose. It wasn’t like she was having any luck with the other thing. 

It seemed like it would never happen. At the ripe age of 20, she hasn’t even had her first kiss. Hell, she wasn’t sure a guy even looked her way. She couldn’t think of a reason why they would. 

Maybe they’d be utterly enchanted by her giant glasses. Or they couldn’t take their eyes off her pasty complexion. Or maybe her mom was wrong and the guys would just go crazy over the fact her stomach wasn’t completely flat. Maybe it didn’t matter at all because nothing could fix the wet rag she called a personality.

She wasn’t delusional. She knew that no matter how much effort she put in, if she knew what the right lipstick was or if she mastered the art of batting her eyes, she would never be a catch. She’d never get another reaction when she asked a guy out. That look of confusion and pity. That look that said she was too ugly to even think about trying. 

Heather sighed as she opened her suitcase. She couldn’t imagine that Wanda had problems like that. If she had to guess, she could get anyone she wanted. She probably never had to wonder if there was just something wrong with her. 

Whatever. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like any of this was going to change. She’d wake up and still be as pathetic as she was when she went to sleep. She’d walk out the next morning and Wanda would still be more beautiful than she’d ever dream of being. She’d have to go home and admit to everyone that she couldn’t do this. 

She just needed to get out of her unbearably wet clothes. Then she needed to fix her hair. Not that she planned on leaving the room until the morning, she just needed it to stop sticking to her forehead. Maybe then she could relax. Maybe then she could stop crying and moping around. 

It really didn’t help that there were mirrors on every single wall of the damn room. For what reason exactly? So people could look at themselves having sex from every single conceivable angle? Was that something that people got off too? What a dumb thing to find hot. 

The last thing she wanted was to look at herself. She knew what she looked like. She looked like a fucking mess and didn’t need to be reminded of it. It was baffling that all the drapery on the wall was just for show. There was nothing she could do about it. No place she could hide. 

Oh well, nothing she could do now. She used one of the many available mirrors to brush her bangs back out. The only positive thing about this situation. As much as she didn’t want to just give up, it was taking too much effort to try and turn her mood around. 

As soon as she looked decent enough that she wouldn’t grimace every time she caught a glimpse of her reflection, she set the hair brush down. Maybe it was best to just call it a night. Cut her losses and go straight to tomorrow. Skip ahead to a day that wasn’t tainted. Tomorrow will be a better day because nothing could be worse than today. 

But as she flopped down on top of the cherry red comforter, she was once again met with her own reflection.

“Jesus fucking christ,” she mumbled as she stared up at herself. Of course there would be a mirror above the bed. Why the hell wouldn’t there be? Why the hell would there be any place in this room where she could escape herself? 

If that wasn’t enough, it seemed like the couple in the room next to her were having a lot of fun. Making no effort to conceal their pleasure. Why would they? They were all at a sex motel. If anything, she was the weird one. She was the one having a horrible time. 

She needed to get out of the room. If she didn’t, she was going to lose her mind. Even through the loud moans, she could still hear the rain hitting the roof. A walk was obviously out of the question. Was there anything else to do? She didn’t smoke so standing out on the walkway and staring out at the parking lot was out of the question. 

Well, she did see a vending machine. A diet coke didn’t sound half bad. And she had two dollars. And if she was lurking in the hall she didn’t have to stare at her reflection. Or hear the woman in the room over wax poetic about how big it was.

It was probably the only good idea she had all day. She wasted no time getting up from the bed and grabbing her wallet. She couldn’t forget the key either. The last thing she needed was to lock herself out of her room and have to talk to Wanda again. She probably already thought she was a loon, the last impression that she wanted to give was that she was an irresponsible one. 

The machine was on the ground floor. She didn’t mind. It only gave her more time out of her room. More chances to calm herself down. Maybe after she wouldn’t be so pissed off by her reflection. Who was she kidding? A diet coke wasn’t going to fix her entire day. 

No one was out and about. It made sense. They probably all had someone keeping them occupied. They were all having too much fun to even think about their shitty lives. She was probably the only person here who was having a bad day. 

And this little distraction wasn’t going as planned. Of course it wouldn’t, why did she think it would? As good of a plan as this seemed, the universe seemed to find the exact way to fuck it up. She turned to the corner to see the vending machine sitting where she remembered it. Right next to the laundry room. Right next to the person she really didn’t want to see right now. 

Wanda gave her a small smile as she continued folding a load of towels. Just a simple acknowledgement. It didn’t mean anything. Why would it mean anything? Did Heather want it to mean anything? 

Maybe she was just still embarrassed from earlier. When she practically yelled at her because she in fact had no idea what type of motel this was. Maybe it was just awkward. Them both standing there saying nothing. 

“Sorry about earlier,” Heather mumbled out, putting her money into the machine. 

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Wanda let out a slight laugh. “I imagine that it must be hard to read the sign in a storm like this.” 

“Yeah, last time I trust a recommendation from some old lady at a bus stop,” she joked as she pressed the button. 

“Well, the other closest is about ten miles from here,” she shrugged, “but not telling you about the little quirk we have was probably a set up.” 

“A set up for what?” She laughed.

“People get off on the weirdest shit,” Wanda explained as the can crashed down. “I can’t even count on both my hands how many people have tried to involve me in their fetishes.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhm,” she nodded. “People have no shame when it comes to a place like this but it is entertaining to see how many of them think I’m a complete dumbass.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, I can imagine that’s frustrating,” Heather offered some condolences. 

“Oh please, I know where I work,” she laughed. “We’re all freaks here, only the flavor changes.”

“Yeah, I must be the weird one here,” she opened the can. 

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Wanda shrugged. “Not everyone comes here just to have sex. Some people just like the aesthetics, makes a good backdrop for photoshoots. After a while, you learn not to judge.” 

“Photoshoots?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah,” she smiled as she put another folded towel into the bin. “Varying degrees of raunchiness but we do have a working relationship with a boudoir photographer. Very nice, gives us a discount.” 

“Have you done one?” 

“Why, do you want to see?” She teased, which made the heat rise to Heather’s cheeks. 

“Oh, I wasn’t–” She quickly turned away from her. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize to me, sweetheart,” Wanda reached her hand out and grabbed her shoulder. The action only made Heather’s heart race more. 

“It was just a bit rude, wasn’t it?” She tried to laugh it off as she felt Wanda’s fingers pressing into her shoulder.

“Hasn’t anyone ever flirted with you before?” Her question was almost laughable. Just one look at her and she’d have her answer. But instead of laughing, the question made her heart skip a beat. Was this… Was she actually flirting with her?

Heather shook her head as their eyes met again. Her honest response made her frown. “You’re trying to tell me that no one has ever tried to make you feel beautiful? That’s extremely hard to believe.” 

“It’s the truth,” she threw her a half-hearted smile. A part of her was sure that she was just toying with her. Surely someone as beautiful as Wanda wasn’t flirting with her. 

“Oh, you poor little thing,” she tutted, taking a strand from her bangs between her fingers. “I’ll tell you, men don’t know a prize when it’s staring them in the face.” 

“Maybe, I’m just not a prize,” Heather knew her face must be as red as a tomato. It didn’t help that Wanda looked at her like this was the most natural thing in the world. 

“You deserve to be cherished, sweetheart,” her voice was soft but she could tell there was something behind it. Something she couldn’t quite understand. The way she was looking at her. Like she could see into every part of her soul. As if she understood her completely. She wasn’t completely certain she didn’t. “You need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” 

 “Mhm,” Heather managed to mumble as she melted into the hand cradling her face. It was strange. Through all her romantic woes, she never even thought of women as an option. She never considered that soft features and ample curves could be better than anything a man could offer her. A man never treated like this after all. 

“Well, tell me beautiful,” Wanda purred as she drew circles on her cheek, “would you like me to follow you back up to your room and take real good care of you?”

“Aren’t you working?” She managed to form words even though it seemed impossible. It seemed impossible that she could even think. It was as if Wanda placed a spell on her. 

“Would it bother you if I was?” She tilted her head. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” she admitted as Wanda leaned in closer to her. Giving her a good sniff of her cherry perfume. 

“Don’t worry about that,” she laughed. “If it helps you sleep at night, consider it part of my duties.”

“So you do this quite often?” Heather somehow found the nerve to tease her back. 

“I wouldn’t say ‘quite often’,” she shrugged, “but when a beautiful woman who was having an exceptionally bad day and is in desperate need of certain assistance crosses my path, how could I ever just stand by?”

Heather audibly gulped as Wanda stepped right up to her. Her big chest squished against her own. She couldn’t help but look down at the sight. If you told her just an hour ago that this was where her night was going to lead, she would never believe you. 

“How about it, pretty girl?” Wanda lifted her gaze with a single finger. “Do you want to?” 

“Please,” she whined out, pushing against her. Seeking any sort of relief for this feeling. This knot in her gut. This sensation she had never felt before. This sensation that Wanda was causing. 

“Aww, you don’t need to beg me,” she teased again, taking her hand and leading her down the hall. “You don’t gotta do a single thing except lie there and look pretty, sweetheart.”

Every single ‘sweetheart’ made her knees buckle. She was putty in her perfect hands. Completely pliable. Malleable. She didn’t know anything about this type of thing and Wanda seemed to know a whole lot. 

She was practically pulling her along. Heather didn’t need to tell her where her room was, she knew she remembered. If she didn’t, then she must be taking somewhere even better. She could lead her wherever and never let her leave and she’d be grateful. It wasn’t like there was anything in her life worth coming back for. 

Was she being ridiculous? Maybe. She was so horny she couldn’t even think straight. It was an odd sensation. Like her mind and her body had a singular goal. Like her whole life led to this moment. Like every decision brought her to this motel. Led her down the hall. Back to that room with one of the most beautiful women that ever existed. 

Wanda wasted no time once the door was unlocked. Picking Heather up and bringing her right to the middle of that heart-shaped bed. She couldn’t help but look up and see her own reflection. Couldn’t take her eyes off of herself as Wanda crawled on top of her. Straddling her lap and going in for the kiss. 

Her lips were soft. Softer than she ever imagined a man’s lips feeling. A man wouldn’t be sharing their lipstick with her either. God, this felt so good. She felt so good. So good and so right. She didn’t want another kiss if it didn’t feel like this. 

When she finally pulled away, Heather was left with that familiar reflection of herself. Only this time she could see that soft pink sheen on her lips. She couldn’t say that it wasn’t a good look on her. 

But she couldn’t keep staring at herself when there was an even more enticing sight in front of her. The way that Wanda was straddling her made that tight little skirt ride up. Just enough that she could get a sneak peak at her panties. Some lacy pink number that made her core throb just from the visual alone. 

By the way she was smirking she knew what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was doing to her. How could she not? It wasn’t like Heather was being subtle. She knew she was hot. She knew that she had her in the palm of her hand. Even as she started to unbutton her shirt, she didn’t break eye contact with her. 

“I saw you staring at them earlier,” Wanda pulled back the red blouse, revealing a bra that matched her panties. It turned her on more than anything she’d ever seen before. 

“I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t,” she took a deep breath as Wanda got a hold of both her hands. 

“What? Am I just a piece of meat to you?” She teased as she placed Heather’s hand squarely on her chest. 

“Well, if you’re just a piece of meat then I’m just a charity case, right?” She squeezed the flesh under her hands. They were soft, moved with the pressure of her grip. Her breath hitched as Wanda leaned into her touch. 

“Not a charity case,” she denied, holding back a moan, “I’m just very dedicated to keeping our valued customers happy.” 

“Is that the line you use on everyone?” Heather asked as Wanda reached for the hem of her t-shirt. 

“Well, it seems to work on you, sweetheart,” she didn’t waste any time pulling her shirt off and revealing her bare tits. Compared to Wanda’s, they were nothing special. Nothing anyone would write home about. But by the way that she was looking at them, with some sort of primal hunger, she was starting to doubt that opinion. 

She roughly pushed Heather back down onto the bed. Making her gasp as she crawled on top of her and took her titty into her mouth. Sucking on it greedily. As if she could will anything to come out of it. Whatever her goal was, it made her feel good. 

Her hips started bucking. Trying to find any sort of friction. Any sort of relief from that sticky throbbing feeling. But Wanda wasn’t paying attention to her pussy. No, she was completely occupied by her chest. 

Sucking on one, massaging the other. Making sure neither of them stayed neglected. Making sure Heather didn’t have to lose a single second of sensation. Every pass of her tongue and press of her fingers made her moan. She slapped her hand over her mouth. 

She knew what this place was and still, the thought of someone hearing her made her feel embarrassed. Like everyone knew what was happening. Everyone was judging her. Everyone knew she had done nothing to deserve this type of treatment from Wanda. 

“Let them hear you, sweetheart,” she reached up and took her hand that was covering her mouth. “They want to hear your pretty little noises, why would you deny them?” 

“It’s just–” She could feel the heat rising to her face as Wanda pinned her hands next to her head. “It’s a bit embarrassing, I don’t–” 

“If you even think about trying to muffle yourself again, I just so happen to know where we hid some handcuffs in this room,” she smiled as Heather’s eyes went wide at the suggestion. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

She couldn’t form a response even if she tried. She couldn’t think a single coherent thought. All that was running through her mind was how much it turned her on. How much she wanted Wanda to use her however she pleased. 

“You’re a naughty little thing,” she teased, pressing her wrists into the mattress. “I bet everyone thinks you’re some angel, don’t they? Bet none of them could ever imagine you like this.” 

Her little teases turned Heather on more than she cared to admit. More than she ever imagined they could. Made her blush deepen. Made her squirm under her. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” She leaned down and purred into her ear. “Are you gonna let me eat your pretty pussy, sweetheart?” 

“Mhm,” she nodded as Wanda gave her earlobe a soft bite.

“Use your words,” she commanded. 

“Please,” she whined as Wanda made her look at her. “Please, Wanda. I want it so bad.”

She placed a strong kiss on her lips before crawling back down the bed. Making a real show of unbuttoning and pulling down her jeans. Taking her time, teasing her while keeping eye contact. 

Heather still expected that this was just a dream. How could this be reality? How could a woman as beautiful as Wanda see anything in her. She didn’t need to lie to herself, she knew she was quite plain. She didn’t expect anyone to ever look her way and here she was. On that heart-shaped bed, with the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen pulling down her panties. 

She knew it was obvious that she’d never done something like this before. Just the mention of it made her blush. But despite all her teasing words, Wanda was gentle. So gentle and patient through all her squirms and whines. 

Heather couldn’t help it if she was sensitive. If her breath was so cold on her now exposed core. If the anticipation was getting to her. If her legs were shaking as Wanda put them over her shoulders. 

“Tell me how you feel, sweetheart,” she cooed, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I want you to feel good, okay?” 

“Okay,” she nodded as she started in. The first sensation of the tongue entering her body was enough to make her cry out. Enough to make her lift her back off the mattress. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t have any frame of reference. But she never could’ve pictured it feeling this good. 

She couldn’t imagine the warm feeling of her mouth on her pussy would unlock a whole other layer of her nervous system. That the simple action of her sucking on her clit could make her feel this good. Make her feel like she wasn’t even human. This must be supernatural. This must be a purely divine feeling. How could it not be?

Heather couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. Her brain was disconnected from her mouth. She hoped that Wanda could understand her cries and moans. As if it was their own secret language. 

Her fingers were digging into the soft flesh of her thigh. Her nails scratched, leaving obscene red marks on her pale skin. The sight alone made her eyes go wide, not to even mention the sensation. Every little action was ruining her. It was like Wanda wanted to break her. Make sure she could never feel this good again. Make sure she needs her. 

“Mmm, right there,” Heather let out a high pitched scream as her tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot. She wasn’t even looking up anymore. She couldn’t hold up her body. But even as she stared up at her own reflection she could feel the way that Wanda was staring at her. 

Staring at her like this was the most beautiful sight in the world. Like Heather was some hard won prize that she was savoring. Like none of those little comments everyone else made about her didn’t matter. Why would they ever matter? Even if no one else saw it, she knew that Wanda did. 

The build up was getting too intense. That knot in her core only gained pressure. Even if she hadn’t done it before, she wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew what was happening. The peak was approaching fast and Wanda wasn’t letting up. 

If anything, she was going in harder. Her thighs pressing against her head only encouraged her. Her cries only feed Wanda’s desire to push her over the edge. To take that first orgasm like a trophy. The thought was making Heather’s eyes roll back. 

Her climax crashed over her like a wave. A wave of lighting and dopamine. A wave that made her pussy throb and her legs shake uncontrollably. A wave that gave Wanda the satisfaction she was chasing this whole time. 

The room was quiet now that Heather replaced her moans with panting. As she was trying to calm herself and her heart rate from the race they ran together. It felt peaceful. Calm. A stark contrast from everything else she felt that day. 

Wanda crawled up to lay next to her. None of that teasing confidence was still on her face. Instead, she looked at her softly as she twirled a piece of her bangs in between her fingers. 

“So, how was the service?” She asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek as Heather scooted closer to her. 

“It was amazing,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll have to tell everyone I know about this place.”

Maybe there wasn’t anything I could say. Maybe I didn’t need to say anything. Maybe the actions alone were enough to prove everything I needed to. I wasn’t going to let her down, no matter how hard it was. No matter what I would have to go through, she could count on me. 

The sky looked even worse when we finally stepped outside. The thick clouds seemed to be getting lower and lower. At least we could see clearly. At least we didn’t have to worry about falling through the floor. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything to worry about. 

We only managed to get a few steps out when we suddenly heard loud barking. Not even having time to think before we saw that big dog bounding over. Understandably so, the rest of them were scared of the behemoth that was charging at us but I was just lucky that I already met him. 

“He’s friendly, he’s friendly,” I tried to reassure them as he kept barking, doing nothing to convince them that I was right. “Hamlet, you big stinker, whatcha doing?” 

He immediately rolled over the second I put out my hand to pet him. Not a very good guard dog but maybe that was for the best. 

“Do you just know every dog in town?” Marrina laughed as I leaned down to scritch his head. 

“Me and Puck were over here Friday and he thinks he’s the keeper of the cannery or something,” I explained. At least she had something to laugh about now. 

“So he could’ve stopped all this over a month ago and did nothing?” She shook her head. 

“No one said he was good at his job,” I shrugged as he continued to roll around. 

“Goddammit, Hamlet!” A gruff voice yelled from beyond that fence. “Get back here!” 

“You’re not supposed to be outside, are you?” I laughed as he quickly got up and turned around. “Was it the classic act like you have to go potty then run off?” 

He didn’t respond to my question, he just stood with his back to us and kept barking. Telling his dad that there was something going down over here. But we couldn’t wait for some stubborn old man to get off his porch. 

“C’mon buddy, we gotta get out of here,” I told him as we continued down that overgrown gravel path. The sky was starting to rumble. A warning of everything to come. If we didn’t get somewhere soon, those clouds were ready to soak us to the damn bone. 

Not even ten in the morning and it had already been too long of a fucking day. But I knew as well as anyone that it was far from over. It’d be a miracle if any of us made it home in the next twelve hours. No matter how much I wanted to just go home, I couldn’t. 

Hamlet was doing a diligent job leading us back towards the gate. I knew plenty of dogs that would’ve just ran ahead and made us eat their dust. He stayed right with us. Walking right next to me and Marrina, panting and wagging his whip of a tail like he was perfectly content to be here. Maybe when all of it was over I could laugh about it. 

He had no idea about the hell that was happening in that cannery. All he could tell was that something was different. Maybe it was the smell or the sound. Maybe he saw the killer one day and decided he wasn’t supposed to be there. Something changed and maybe he didn’t know why but he didn’t like it. And hey, he solved the mystery before any of us did. He was just a good detective. 

“Hamlet, get over here right now!” The man who I could only assume was Mr. McCormick was still screaming at him. We were going as fast as we could but the last thing I wanted to do was rush the two people who were supposed to be helping. 

“Jim, why don’t you just go and get him?!” Mrs. McCormick asked him. 

“Because I don’t have my shoes on, Linda!” 

“Then put your damn shoes on!” She argued with him. 

“I wasn’t the one who let him out in the first place!” I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from laughing. 

“Fine, just let your wife walk out in the storm to wrangle the dog!” She huffed out as we were getting closer to the gate. Closer to the point where I could stop holding my breath. He ran out in front of us. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered to Marrina as a crack of thunder rang out and Hamlet started barking again. “I promise you that.” 

“I know, Heather, I know,” it was hard to hear each other over all the commotion. “I just want to go home.” 

“We can go home,” I promised even though I knew we wouldn’t be back for hours at least. 

“Hamlet, what are you barking at?” Mrs. McCormick asked as we finally reached the gate. He turned to us and barked again. “Detective McNeil, what’s going on?” 

“Hi, Mrs. McCormick,” I somehow managed to throw her a cringing smile as she started to fill in the rest. 

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” She rushed over to us. I tried to find the right words to say. What could possibly describe the last three hours? “Should I call the police? I mean, you are the police but–”

“Considering I told them what I was doing and no one’s here yet, probably a good idea,” I agreed as we moved onto the pavement. She was trying to lead us back to the house, Hamlet walking calmly right beside us in spite of the rain starting to fall. We were close to some semblance of calm. “Tell them two missing people were found in the cannery.” 

“Okay,” she nodded before hurrying up to the house where her husband was still standing, looking as confused as she did. I could only imagine what was going through their heads. The second she said something to him, he ran back inside. 

I could tell Marrina was starting to drag her feet. I wasn’t going to blame her for being tired. Chances are she hadn’t slept all night. I knew as well as she did that the next few hours were going to be nothing but questions and people talking around her. 

“Jim’s calling them,” she explained as we made our way to the porch. “You guys can stay in here until everything smooths over.” 

“Thank you so much,” I let out a sigh, trying to help Marrina get up the few steps. 

“It’s really the least we could do,” she led us inside. Hamlet was already laying down on his bed near the window, obviously thinking his day was already done. I wished more than anything that I could just conk out right now. He had no idea how lucky he was.

I walked over and let Marrina sit on that cream couch. Let her relax as Mr. McCormick was on the phone in the kitchen. For the first time in the last five hours, I let myself take a true deep breath. We were fine. We were safe. No one was going to hurt her anymore. 

Jeanne-Marie hadn’t said a single thing. I didn’t blame her. None of us could really know what the two of them had been through. The last thing they needed was anyone trying to push. They’ll get enough of that for the rest of their lives, they weren’t gonna get it from me. 

“You good?” I asked her again as she slouched back onto the couch. 

“I already said I am, Heather,” she rubbed her eyes. “I– I’m fine. We’re safe, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded even though that thought kept creeping back into my mind. He was still out there. He was still on the loose even if we saved them. And if this morning was any indication, Madison wasn’t very keen on taking that step. 

It was up to me. No matter how much I wanted to just sit there with her, make sure she knew I was there for her, I couldn’t. I couldn’t lie to her face and say that we were safe when we both knew he was still out there. 

I looked out the window at an almost perfect view of the cannery. The rest of them would be here in a few minutes. A few minutes until I was strong armed into doing nothing. I wasn’t about to sit here and trust that they’d do the right thing. 

“Heather, what are you doing?” Wanda called after me as I ran out the door. 

“I have to stop him,” I explained, booking it right past the car. “If I don’t, no one else will.” 

“You’ve done enough,” she argued as she caught up to me. “You don’t need to go in and risk your life.” 

“No, Wanda, I do,” I shook my head. “I can’t trust them to do the right thing, I have to. I need to end this.” 

“They need you here, Heather,” she grabbed my arm. “I know that you think it’s all up to you but it isn’t. They can’t ignore it now.” 

“Stay with them, tell whoever comes everything you can,” I started to instruct as I pulled away from her grip, “I’ll be back before you guys know it and we can all go home, okay?” 

I didn’t wait for a response before running right down the path to the cannery. I had no time to waste. It had to end now, however that may be. I wasn’t going to sit by and trust anyone. There was too much at stake. I’ve wasted too much time. He’s done too much harm.

After the last few times, running through the cannery was like second nature. I didn’t stumble, I didn’t hesitate. The darkness didn’t matter. The thunder rumbling with higher frequency didn’t matter. My mind was made up. Nothing was going to change it. 

He had to be somewhere. Where else could he be? It wouldn’t be wise for a serial killer just to leave his victims completely unattended. Unless this whole thing was a trap. Unless his whole goal was to lure me here. Get me alone. 

I grabbed my gun out of the holster. I wasn’t going to die today. This wasn’t the end of the line. Not for me at least. I was going to walk in there, do what I had to do, and walk back out. Then we could go home. Then maybe I could get my first real sleep in over a month. 

I knew he wasn’t on the factory floor. It’s too open. There’s too much of a chance to be caught. He wasn’t in the back hall. He would’ve heard us. He would’ve stopped us. Made our mission harder to accomplish. But he didn’t. 

He must’ve known we were here. Surely he wasn’t a dumbass. We didn’t exactly pull off a covert extraction. Anyone who wasn’t deaf would’ve heard Wanda break down the door if they didn’t hear anything else. 

But if he knew then what? What was his plan? To lure me into some makeshift lair for what? To kill me? To convince me that he was justified? To tell me that I couldn’t trust Madison? I already knew that. He did a fine enough job proving that himself. 

I hadn’t gone up those stairs yet. Steel stairs that looked more dangerous than any rust on the floor. Now instead of just falling, I could fall from an even greater height. Still, I had to do it. I couldn’t just walk out there and admit that I didn’t even try after that whole show. A couple of unstable stairs weren’t going to stop me. If he had been watching me like I assumed he had, he would’ve known that too. 

I didn’t know if hugging the railing was really a viable strategy. It was wobbly. I had every reason to believe that it would just snap off and send me tumbling down. I also had every reason to believe that any of the steps would crumble away the second I put the slightest pressure on them. I had to get up. I had to do this. 

Even through the walls of the factory I could hear the police sirens blaring as they pulled up to the McCormicks. Like a timer ticking down. I knew I was out of time. It was now or never as I reached the platform. It only led to a single room. 

I had to assume it was some sort of office. You could probably see the entire factory floor from the windows. The windows that were covered with a black tarp from the inside. Only confirmed every suspicion I had. 

I held my gun securely in my hands. It might turn out to be unwise but my finger was on the trigger. I couldn’t take any risks. If it came down to it, I knew I couldn’t hesitate. Not that I wanted to take that step. I’ve never killed anyone, the thought alone weighed heavy on my heart. But I wasn’t going to die today. I wasn’t going to be remembered as another victim. 

I pushed the door open with my foot and took a peek inside. The scene was laid out just as I thought it would be. A few camping lanterns illuminating what would’ve been a pitch black room. Some discarded food packages littered the corners. Sparse furniture that must’ve been nailed down. A few bookshelves and a desk. 

And probably most noticeably, leaning over the desk was a tall man with disheveled blonde hair. It was hard to determine if he heard me or not. If he did, he didn’t make any effort to acknowledge the fact I was entering the space. 

I kept my breath steady and kept my gun pointed down. I had to try anything I could to keep the situation from turning hostile. But I knew that it was inevitable. He wasn’t going down without a fight and I was the only one who showed up. 

“Took you long enough to find me, Heather,” he spoke as I stood right behind him.

“Put your hands up,” I somehow mustered enough courage to give the command. 

“I’ve been waiting so long to talk to you and this is the greeting I get?” He let out a hollow laugh. “Not even a hello.” 

“If you have something you want to say you better spit it out,” I kept my voice steady as he turned to me. “It won’t be long before the rest of them show up and I guarantee they won’t hesitate.” 

“Before the rest of them show up?” He asked. “How are you not part of ‘them’, Heather? All those years in the force and doing everything you can to distance yourself from your dear colleagues.” 

“We’re not talking about me right now,” I shook my head and held my gun up. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you, because I got too many reasons why I should.” 

“Then why don’t you?” He challenged me. “No one’s here. No one would know, why don’t you end it once and for all?” 

I thought about it as my finger rested on the trigger. Why didn’t I just pull it back? Why didn’t I subject him to the same fate that he inflicted on all of those girls? He didn’t deserve to stand in front of me with that self righteous smirk on his face. Still, I didn’t pull the trigger. 

“Why did you do it?” I asked, staring him straight on. “You wanted to get back at Madison, right? Doesn’t killing those girls prove him right?” 

“Greatest detective in the town and you still got it mixed up,” he laughed. “The only thing I was trying to do was prove that he couldn’t stop me if he tried.”

“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?” We both knew he could’ve stopped it a long time ago. He could’ve ended it before it got this far. 

“Whatever spin you try to put on it he failed,” he shrugged. 

“I don’t need to be convinced of that,” I hadn’t put my gun down yet. “Why did you kill them? That doesn’t prove anything.” 

“What would I need to prove?” He asked. “The world already believes I’m insane. They decided I was over twenty years ago. The only thing I’m doing is playing the role they’ve assigned me.” 

“So you killed them just because you could?” The more he talked, the less empathy I had for him. “What exactly are you trying to convince me of? That you’re the true victim here? That the whole world has wronged you? That I should feel bad for you?” 

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” he shrugged, grabbing something off the desk. 

“Then why did you send me the letter?” I asked, keeping my aim as steady as I could. “Why did you try and bring Wanda into this? Why did you target Marrina? Why are we even having this conversation?” 

“Because we’re more alike than you’d like to believe.” I had to stop myself from laughing in his face. “We never had a chance, Heather. Our families set us up for failure, the world has already cast its judgements on us. In another life we’d be in opposite positions.” 

“I’m nothing like you,” I shook my head. The notion was ridiculous. “I don’t give a shit about what you’ve gone through. If you wanted any sympathy from me, you shouldn’t have killed those girls.” 

“Then why don’t you pull that trigger?” He stepped closer to me. “If I’m so irredeemable, then why don’t you end it once and for all?” 

“Because I’m better than you,” I didn’t know what his plan was. He must have one. The way he was looking at me told me that he had one. “If you’re going to do something, do it now. It won’t be long before they storm this bitch and you’ll wish you were just dealing with me.” 

To his credit he didn’t waste any time before lunging at me. He must think it would be easy to overpower me. Men always thought they had to upperhand. But I wasn’t one to go down without a fight. 

It was clear that he wasn’t skilled in this. He relied too much on his strength. Too much on his height and mass. He wasn’t nimble. He wasn’t strategized. He didn’t think about his moves but there was an advantage he had on me. 

As much as I tried to fight it, mask it under adrenaline, I was tired. I was spent and didn’t have as much fight in me as I ought to. He knocked the gun out of my hand and kicked it across the floor. Hand to hand now, but it was nothing I didn’t train for. 

I wondered how long it must’ve been. Why no one else had shown up. Surely they would’ve noticed something. Wanda or Marrina or any of the McCormicks would’ve said something. Did they really abandon me? I could lead them right to the problem and they’d just watch me struggle. 

“I usually like to be more artful about it,” he teased as he pinned me against the bookshelf. “But as you said, we’re running out of time.” 

He took out a shank from behind his back. A piece of plywood whittled down to a point. I could feel the splinters as he held it against my chest. 

“It’s just such a shame,” he shook his head, keeping my arm against my neck. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe. “I had so much hope that you’d understand, Heather.” 

His dirty hair covered a lot of his face. His breath smelled like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in years. It was only fitting for a serial killer on the run. If he wasn’t trying to choke me, I might have gagged. 

“But if you’re right and it’s all going to end today, then I’m taking you with me,” he pressed that shank as close as he could without stabbing me. So hesitant to take the step. “It’s only fair, after all. You’ll be the hero who–” 

Bang

Any other noise was replaced by a ringing in my ear. The pressure left my neck and I stumbled forward. Almost tripping on the body in front of me. The body on the floor. The body with blood gushing out of its head. 

I turned my head as the situation started to make sense. Madison stood in the doorway, holding the smoking gun. His brother’s body, dying if he wasn’t dead on impact. And me, caught in the eye of the shit storm that fueled all this tragedy. 

Something as simple as hatred between brothers, something that had existed since the dawn of time, had managed to destroy this town. Managed to cause so much pain and heartache. Broke things that couldn’t be repaired. 

I didn’t have anything to say as he put his gun back in his holster and walked over to his brother. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I didn’t ask any sort of questions. I didn’t offer any sort of thanks. I looked over at my own gun laying in the corner of the room. 

What was the purpose of a gun? The only thing it was good at was killing. We convince ourselves that they protect us from danger when we hold it right in our hands. We use the gun like a bargaining chip. Listen to us and maybe you’ll get to live. And we act like we aren’t evil for it. 

I reached into my pocket. My wallet still sat in there despite everything that happened today. My drivers license. Some credit cards. Half filled stamp cards from places I hadn’t been in years. And that cooper badge that told me I had the right to hold onto that evil. The one that said I could do whatever I wanted and no one would blame me. 

I took that badge out of my wallet and tossed it on the floor. This was what I wanted since I was a child. They’d say that I was helping people. That I was protecting people. I wanted that. I wanted to be someone people could look up to. I wanted to be the person I wish I had. That badge represented nothing of the sort. 

“What happened to Roger was an accident,” Madison finally spoke as I walked to the door. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but they needed someone to blame.” 

I turned my head to look at him. Leaning down to look at his brother. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I could only imagine what was going through his head. 

“Lionel was a convenient villain. A kid with issues that none of us really understood,” he explained. “As much as I can’t justify what he’s done, he didn’t deserve what happened to him.” 

“Those girls didn’t deserve what happened to them either,” I shrugged. 

“I never said that they did,” he looked straight up at me. “It isn’t about who was wronged and who wasn’t.” 

“Why did you do it, Madison?” I asked with a heavy sigh. “Why didn’t you stop him before it got too far?” 

“Because I thought that I could,” he admitted. “I thought that I could talk some sense into someone who was long gone and it wouldn’t have to come to this.” 

“You should’ve told us,” I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have tried to solve this yourself. You should’ve–” 

“He was my brother, Heather.” He turned his gaze back to the blood that was still spilling out of his head. “Wouldn’t you try anything you could too?” 

I took one last look at the scene before walking out. That brutal scene that felt all too familiar. So similar to the one my parents used to paint for me. Two brothers, one rageful and one righteous. It was never that simple. They never could convince me that Abel wasn’t guilty of the sin that flowed through his blood. I never believed that Cain was simply just evil. But no matter what spin I tried to put on the story, it always ended the same. One was dead and the other was made to walk the earth alone. Wander with the weight of what he’d done. 

I walked out of the cannery with no urgency. Just memory. My feet remembered where to step as my body was seemingly pulled forward by an invisible force. All I wanted was to go home. Go home and sleep. 

The air smelt like the storm that still didn’t have the nerve to touch down. I always liked storms. There was something comforting about laying down and listening to rain pelt the rooftop. I didn’t care for the damage it might do or the inconvenience it might cause. I just liked the sound. 

“Heather!” I heard Wanda’s voice over the waves that crashed against the rusted exterior of that building behind me. 

“Hey,” I was partially surprised that I could produce any sound at all. After everything I’ve just been through, I don’t think anyone would blame me if I never talked again. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” She ran past the police tape and met me on that gravel path. I shook my head as she wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t scare us like that again.”

“I won’t,” I sighed, leaning into her embrace. “Promise that this is the last murder I try to solve.” 

“Marrina was worried sick,” she told me with a kiss to my forehead. “It took both me and Hamlet to stop her from running into the cannery.” 

“Well, you could’ve told her that it’s not her job,” I continued down the path. Towards the gate blocked off with that flimsy tape. All those deputies pretending to do something important. 

“You and I both know that wouldn’t convince her,” she pointed out, lifting up the yellow barrier so I could pass under it. “Even if you don’t like it, sweetheart, you have people that worry about you.”

“It’s probably for the best,” I shrugged. “Who knows, I might even get used to it after a while.” 

“Now you’re just making false promises,” she laughed as we reached the porch. I looked inside through the big glass door. A couple of deputies talking to the McCormicks. Jeanne-Marie had been reunited with her brother. Marrina was sitting on the floor. Hamlet laying right next to her. 

“Anything’s possible,” I gave her a slight shove. “After the day we’ve had I wouldn’t count anything out.” 

Hamlet looked up at me but made no effort to get up. Probably a good thing. Marrina needed more comfort than I did. I knew he knew that. He was a smart dog. 

“Well, did you catch the bad guy?” Her voice was flat. Barely extended above a whisper. It was unlike her. The sound alone was enough to make my heart break. 

“More or less,” I shrugged, looking down at the dog who kept his big ass head firmly in her lap. 

“They’re saying that I can’t go home yet,” she admitted. “Something about interviews and going to Westpoint for some medical exams. They said they have to call my parents, well good luck with that.” 

“I know it’s a lot,” I had to hold back my own tears as I saw one leave her eye, “and it might not seem like it now but it’s all gonna be okay.” 

“What if I don’t want to be okay?” She shrugged, petting Hamlet who let out a soft grunt at the lack of attention. 

“Then we can all just be miserable together,” even if it only made me roll my eyes, Wanda’s joke succeeded in making Marrina smile. Maybe that was the only thing that mattered right now. 

“We should get one of these,” she said, pointing at the dog who was starting to drift off in her lap. “In case another deranged serial killer shows up.” 

“I might know a guy,” I smiled as Wanda put her arm around me. 

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to live with a gigantic beast?” She smiled back at me before leaning her head on the couch cushion. 

The sky looked angry. Thick black clouds forming over the ocean and making quick time towards us. No doubt that a storm was coming our way. Under any other circumstances, I’d be perfectly content staying inside, cuddling up with Wanda on the loveseat. But comfort didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered besides getting to that cannery. 

That rusted building. That complete eyesore. Now an ode to brutality. So much we could’ve done. So much pain we could’ve stopped. But we couldn’t. We never had the chance to protect the people who relied on us. 

I couldn’t figure out why Madison did it. I wasn’t expecting a full explanation, he couldn’t even fully admit that he was at fault. That blood was on his hands even if he wasn’t holding the knife. He already let one girl die and I wasn’t going to watch as he willingly sacrificed two more. 

That goddamn song was still playing. I might just have a burning hatred for Donna Summers after all this was over. Not any fault of hers, I just couldn’t see how I couldn’t associate her voice with this feeling. Being completely overtaken by panic and dread. Wondering if it was too late. If we had a prayer in the goddamn world. 

“So what exactly is the plan here?” Wanda asked as we pulled up to the chainlink fence. 

“We go in and we find them,” I tried to get out a good enough run through with everything that was going on in my head. “Hopefully someone at the station decides to take this seriously.” 

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we do what we can,” I let out a deep breath before opening the door and rushing to the padlock. “If we’re the only hope they have, we can’t waste any time.” 

“And what happens if we see the killer?” She asked as my shaky hands struggled to put the code in. 

“We have a gun,” I patted my holster. “Self defense, no one would blame us but ideally, we get them out and other people could deal with the rest.” 

I threw the padlock to the ground the second I unlocked it and shoved those gigantic gates open, leaving nothing in our path. Nothing stopping us from our goal.

“Watch your step inside, the floor is rusted as hell,” I warned her as we reached the door to the factory floor. 

“Oh, geez,” she said as she got as good of a look as she could into the cannery. 

“No one really cares about safety hazards when it’s been abandoned for years,” I debated bringing out a flashlight. It would give us away. Let whoever was watching know that we were here. That we were looking around. Any serial killer who was worth a damn would stop at nothing to kill such obvious witnesses. We had to rely on our own sight. However shit it might be. 

I guess that little expedition on friday wasn’t for nothing. Maybe I couldn’t recall much of anything right now but my feet knew where to step. The waves were crashing against the side of the building. Doing nothing but contributing to the thick buildup of muck that obscured the window. This place was a fucking wreck. 

“What’s that smell?” I could tell that Wanda was trying to hold back a gag as we got further and further in on the factory floor. 

“Some part ocean, some part the guts of fish that’s been sitting and rotting for the past five years,” I put my hand out to stop her from stepping on a particularly rusted piece of floor. The last thing we needed right now was for either one of us to fall into the ocean.

“So they didn’t even bother to clean up when this place closed down?” 

“What? And you’re surprised?” I laughed, turning to check any sort of door. If they were locked, if anything was in those dark, dank rooms. There wasn’t anything there the last time but there weren't two missing people last time either. “They closed down and the owners said ‘fuck everyone else, let’s create a biohazard.’”

“Sounds about right,” she let out a slight laugh and tried to stay as close to me as possible. The holes in the floor were becoming more frequent. More noticeable. More dangerous. Staying close was beneficial to both of us. 

We were getting close to the end of known ground. God, we should’ve explored everything. No matter how useless it seemed, we shouldn’t have given up. Because now I was lost and it was dark and going further in counted more than anything. 

The big steel doors were heavy. Ridiculously so. Surely, it wasn’t practical by any means. Still, we had to push them open. We had to push on. Lives were depending on us pushing on. Lives worth a whole lot more than the effort. 

The scraping of the doors against the dilapidated metal floors were assaulting my ears. Made me want to scream out as dramatic as that sounded. But we had to endure it. None of this was about me. Everything that I hated about this place didn’t matter. What I wanted to do didn’t matter. This wasn’t about my own comfort. 

Without the aid of that grimy window, the hallway was a whole lot darker. I could only make out vague shapes. But I knew what a floor that was about to give out felt like. I knew what a doorknob was shaped like. I knew what a locked door sounded like. I knew what I was doing, I wasn’t helpless. 

But I wasn’t here alone. I didn’t care if anyone at the station believed me. I didn’t care what story Madison was trying to spin. Wanda was here. She trusted me enough to let me lead her through an abandoned factory. Even if she didn’t really know shit about the fine details of the case, she believed me. She wanted to help me. She wasn’t going to make me do this alone. 

As we got further and further from the factory floor, it was hard to determine what exactly all these rooms were used for. Storage, office spaces, control panels for fine machinery. I didn’t know, practically all the doors were locked. No doubt this was deliberate. 

It should’ve been obvious that he’d create a maze. A puzzle meant to frustrate whoever was trying to solve it to the point of tears. No clues, just disappointment. Just a manufactured hopeless feeling that would make anyone want to just give up. A bunch of trial and error. A thousand thoughts going through my head saying that I’m insane for trying. 

I wasn’t insane. I was so sick of everyone acting like I was insane. Like I was overdramatic or panicking. I know most of it came from care. I know that people had their reasons to be concerned about me. I just also knew that I was right. 

“It’s like a fun house in here, how long is this hallway?” Wanda commented after we passed what must’ve been the tenth door. 

“It’s a big ass building,” I shrugged, jiggling another doorknob. Locked just like the rest of them. Part of me wanted to just assume but if I assumed then what’s the point? What could I possibly expect to find if I didn’t turn over every rock.

“I think the darkness might just be fucking with my brain,” she admitted as we continued on. Riding the wall had quickly become the most logical way to navigate. “We should’ve recruited someone without compromised eyesight.”

“We should’ve recruited some night vision googles,” I joked before reaching the door. Another locked door. Another secret that wasn’t worth figuring out. I knew this was the strategy. After so many failures, any person would naturally give up. “We should’ve recruited a miracle electrician.” 

“And what exactly does a miracle–”

Wanda’s snide remark was cut off by a loud thud further down the hall. Stopping both of us in our tracks. My hand moved to my gun as we heard another one. What it was, I couldn’t determine. Neither of us seemed to know what to do. 

The thudding didn’t stop. Not as we slowly started to move towards the noise. It was heavy. Frantic. The noise of someone who knew this was their only chance. 

The closer we got to the door, it became clearer. The thudding which now seemed violent and desperate was paired with muffled screams. The words were hard to make out but I wouldn’t be a good detective if I couldn’t put two and two together. 

“Marrina, sweetheart, is that you?” I asked, leaning down right next to the wall. She screamed something that sounded enough like a confirmation. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Are you hurt?” 

It was becoming increasingly obvious that there was something preventing her from speaking clearly. But her answer sounded a lot like a no. I could work with yes or no. “Okay, okay, good. Are both of you guys in there?” 

A yes. Great. Makes our job easier. “We’re gonna get you guys out, okay?” Something that sounded a lot like okay as I moved towards the door. Locked, just like I expected. I tried to get a closer look at the knob. At least there was a keyhole. 

“Do you have a bobby pin?” I turned to ask Wanda who was standing right behind me. 

“I don’t.” She shook her head. 

“A paperclip?”

“Why would I have a paperclip on me?” She asked with a little too much of a lilt for the situation. 

“Because I need something to pick the damn lock with!” The frustration was getting to me.

“Heather, we don’t need to pick the lock,” she said, moving in front of the door and knocking on it. 

“Well, unless we have a fucking sledgehammer how the hell are we getting in?” I asked as she was still examining the door. 

“Picking the lock or destroying the knob would take too much time,” she explained, backing up to the other side of the hall. “It’s not a thick door either.” 

“You’re going to try to knock it down?” I asked, quickly moving out of the way. “It’s a steel door, Wanda.” 

“I don’t need to break it in half, I just need to break the hinges,” she shrugged. “Besides, I did my time as a linebacker, a lousy door is nothing.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” I stopped her for a second before turning back to the wall. “Are either of you guys in front of the door?” 

I heard a muffled no before I moved away from the door. The last thing I wanted was to be caught in the crossfire of a human battering ram. 

Thud

Her shoulder connected with the old metal. The sight alone was enough to make me wince. I still wasn’t convinced that this was going to work but I’d have to eat my words if I said she wouldn’t try. 

Thud

At least this time I heard the hinges groan with the impact. Or maybe I was just hoping. Hoping this plan would work because I didn’t have another one. 

Thud

“C’mon, c’mon,” she mumbled. Rubbing her shoulder, she backed up again. 

“Wanda, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” I couldn’t really see the look on her face but surely the sensation couldn’t be pleasant. 

“It’s only a few bruises, nothing I’ve never dealt with before,” she dismissed me before charging at the door again. 

Krrck

At least that one sounded promising. Still, I couldn’t help but be worried as she took a second to recover. A deep breath and a wince before walking back to the other side of the hall. 

“Are you sure that you–” 

Crash

“You were saying?” She turned to me after stopping herself from falling with the door. 

“Save the cockiness for later,” I rushed into the dark room, looking at the horrifying sight. Both of them sitting in the corners of the room, gagged with rags. Their limbs were bound for god knows how long. 

I wasted no time, grabbing the pocket knife that I had enough mind to put in my pants this morning. The quicker we got out of here, the quicker that we got them to safety, the less chances that we’d have to confront the killer. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” I reassured Marrina before taking the crude gag out of her mouth. 

‘I– I tried to call you,” she managed to sob out. 

“I know,” I quickly took my knife to the thin rope. Easy enough to saw through. “You did the right thing, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, Heather,” it was hard to understand her through the tears. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve told him to go fuck himself, I should’ve stayed home.” 

“No, no, no, it’s not your fault,” I said as I cut her arms free. “Don’t apologize to me, never for a second did I blame you.” 

She sprung forward and embraced me the second she could. Wrapping her arms around me and crying into my shoulder. As much as I knew we had to get out of there, I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t pull away from her. 

The disco beats coming out of Wanda’s speakers were starting to piss me off. Agitating me further and further. Maybe it was for the better. The angrier I was, the less chance I had to go back on this. I wasn’t going to be convinced I was crazy.

“You doing okay?” She asked as we turned into the station.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” I let out a sigh. I wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t be until this whole thing was over. 

“I know, but…” She paused for a moment. Parking the car and thinking about what to say. “I don’t know what we’re stepping into and the last thing we need is to waste time, right?” 

“No, I have to do this,” I shook my head. “I have to talk to him. I have to report this. We can’t just rush into what could be a bloodbath with no one else knowing.” 

“Okay,” she took a deep breath as she turned off the car. I could tell she was scared. Hell, so was I. But I knew a lot more about this than she did. 

“You don’t have to go in with me,” I offered. “God knows, it’s a stressful situation and I don’t expect you to–” 

“I’m not letting you do this alone,” she promised, grabbing my hand. “However hard this is on me, I know it’s a thousand times harder for you. No matter what, I’m right here with you.” 

“I just have to chew him out a bit,” I shrugged as I opened the door. 

“That sounds like an understatement,” she let out a short laugh before following me. “I feel like ‘chewing out a bit’ is reserved for when someone makes an annoying mistake, not when they let a serial killer run rampant.”

“Probably would be more productive than just yelling at him,” I needed to take a deep breath. There was no way that this conversation wouldn’t be a disaster but maybe I could prevent it from being a complete catastrophe. 

All I had to do was walk into the station. I had to settle everything before I could jump into action. Before we could rush over to the cannery and save Marrina. I had to push down the thought that was saying it was already too late. That she was already dead and I wasted too much time. 

No, I couldn’t be talking like that. It wasn’t too late. There was still time. Maybe not much but all wasn’t lost. It couldn’t be lost. That wouldn’t make sense. It wouldn’t be right to be so close and still be too late. 

“Heather,” the secretary called out from behind the desk, “I didn’t think you were working today.” 

“Emergency,” I shrugged. “Is Madison in?”

“Yeah, he got here a few minutes ago,” she answered. 

“And he’s just in his office?” She nodded but I could tell she was confused. About why I was here when everyone seemed so dedicated to me taking a day off. About who the person standing with me was. About why I seemed pissed as hell. “Great, thank you.” 

“Of course…” she trailed off, turning to the computer as I turned to walk down the hall. 

“Should I just wait out here?” Wanda asked, gesturing to the lobby. 

“I’m not sure I won’t strangle him if there aren’t witnesses,”  I beckoned her on as I made my way closer and closer to that door at the end of the hall. Trying my best to keep my emotions in check. If I came in swinging then I’d look like the bad guy. 

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded, picking up her pace to catch up to my fast one. Not my fault that I was on a mission. Not that she was complaining, I’m sure she understood the time crunch we were on perfectly. 

His door was closed. It would be polite to knock. Something I would normally do. I didn’t give a shit about niceties anymore. 

“Heather, what the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t look up from the computer as I opened the door. 

“We need to talk,” I said as Wanda walked in and shut the door behind her. 

“And it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrow as he glanced up at us. “Who’s this?” 

“‘It’s just such a shame, Madison. You’ve been lying to everyone this whole time. They have no idea who you actually are,’” I started to read the letters off my phone, “‘Do you have any idea that the person you trust so much is leading this town to ruin, Heather? How many more will go missing before he admits what he’s done?’”

I looked him straight in the eye as I saw his face drop.

“‘After all this time it should be clear now. So tell me, Madison, what happened to Roger Bochs?’ Do I need to go on?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shook his head and tried to dismiss me. 

“Maybe I would if you didn’t withhold crucial evidence for a full fucking month to cover your own ass,” I argued. “And don’t try to deny it either, I know you’ve been interfering with the investigation and you’d be fucking lucky if I don’t go straight to the news.”

“To cover my own ass?” He laughed. “Please tell me you don’t believe those letters.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s being completely truthful,” he shrugged, putting my phone back into my pocket, “because I know for a fact that I can’t trust you anymore.” 

“Do you think I’m in on this shit or something?” He asked, getting off his chair. “I didn’t divulge every single aspect of my life and suddenly I’m as bad as a murderer?” 

“Well tell me, Madison,” I crossed my arms, “what was your reasoning? What could possibly justify you standing by and letting him kill those girls? And for what? Revenge?”

“He’s insane, Heather!” He screamed out which made Wanda instinctively step forward from the wall. “My brother’s an insane psychopathic serial killer, there. Is that enough for you?” 

“I don’t give a shit about your family drama,” I defended myself. “What I can’t understand is why you’d try to hide this? Hell, if we knew when you did, Rose would still be alive. Another girl was taken last night, and none of this needed to happen if you were just fucking honest from the start instead of trying to solve this yourself.”

“If there was another disappearance, I would’ve known about it before you did.”

“Marrina Smallwood was taken from the gas station around midnight last night,” I explained, reaching into my pocket.”Your brother was there last night. He slid this letter under the door of Wanda’s apartment.”  

“And I’m assuming the parents called you directly?” He raised his eyebrow at me. Snatching the paper out of my hand as if I was lying. As if anything I said so far could be denied. 

“She hasn’t been living with her parents since the 16th,” I crossed my arms. “Every sign is pointing to a kidnapping.” 

“Okay so she isn’t living with her parents, which you somehow know,” he sighed, “and I’m sure you have some irrefutable evidence to bring this up in the first place.” 

“My ‘irrefutable evidence’ is that she’s been staying with me for the past few days,” I was getting tired of all of this. Being dismissed even when I come in with proof. Wasting time that could be used to save her. “She didn’t come home this morning and her manager said the store was abandoned when he came in.”

“I don’t know if you realize this is all circumstantial evidence,” he shook his head as the phone began to blare on his desk. “None of this is enough to file a report.” 

“Oh, I ain’t filing a damn report,” I laughed slamming her crushed phone down on the desk. I had to raise my voice to be heard over the other ones ringing. “I’m telling you what’s happening and if I have to storm that fucking cannery myself then I’ll fucking do it.” 

“No you aren’t,” he turned off the phone and took a deep breath. “Not only is that stupid but it's also illegal. You aren’t a deputy, you’re not even clocked in. If you ran in like a fucking mad man, you’d be arrested for vigilantism if you weren’t killed.” 

“Well, if that’s the case,” I turned on my heel and headed to the door. Nothing was going to stop me. Not any threats, not any dismissal. I knew what was at stake and nothing was going to convince me that I was overreacting. 

“Heather, stop!” He yelled after me as I swung the door open. “I swear if you–” 

“Sheriff Jefferies,” the secretary was standing right in front of the door, blocking our path. “There’s another missing person.” 

“Yes, I’m fully aware,” he groaned as we shimmied past us. 

“Jeanne-Marie Beaubier didn’t come home last night,” she explained, which made me stop in my tracks. “Her brother just came in. I was trying to call you but it must’ve not gone through.” 

“So that’s two missing people in one night?” I crossed my arms and stared back at him. “Luckily we already know when they were taken, where the killer operates, and who he is, right?” 

“Heather, this is completely idiotic, you are–” 

“If you’re not going to send anyone down the cannery then I don’t want to fucking here it!” I yelled, running down to the front desk. “I’m done waiting. Two people are in immediate danger, and you want to just sit on your ass. You might be perfectly fucking fine with blood on your hands but I ain’t.” 

He still screamed something out after me but I didn’t care. I gave him enough indication that I wasn’t listening anymore. If he wanted to stop me, he’d have to tackle me to the ground and keep me there. A pretty hard task in general, I wasn’t an easy bitch to keep down. The fact Wanda was right behind me only made it harder. 

There wasn’t anyone who had a chance in hell of stopping me as I got behind the secretary desk. Just a simple precaution. If clocking in was going to cover my ass then I’d do it in a heart beat. 

“It’s only a few minutes to the cannery,” I said. “Lucky we live a such a tiny fucking town.” 

“And you’re sure they’re there?” Wanda asked as I rushed out towards the front of the station. There was no time to waste. 

She didn’t have trouble with that either. She might not be as smart as he was, not that anyone would hold that against her, but she could hold her own. She had always been a smart kid. Naturally, she evolved into a smart adult. She also knew for a fact that he valued intelligence. She knew a lot more about him than she ought to. 

Okay, so this wasn’t the most organic turn of events. She might have stacked the cards or put her finger on the scale, but who hasn’t? Who wouldn’t do some preliminary research? Who wouldn’t do some scouting to figure out what he likes? Who wouldn’t take note of his schedule and just so casually cross paths with him? She wasn’t being creepy, she was just dedicated. 

Strategic was the way she liked to describe it. That’s how she approached dating in general. As many men who had tried, she never had a boyfriend. None of the potential suitors were worth the salt. Sure, they might have been handsome. Athletic. Some might have been smart. Others might have equally enticing qualities but that didn’t mean she was going to throw herself at them. 

A good partner didn’t just need to be attractive. Attraction was fleeting. A good partner needed to have something to offer her beyond dates every now and then. She needed someone who’d support her. Who’d support her dreams and ambitions. Who would value her intelligence and talent, not just her looks. 

Reed was the only man she found that checked all her boxes. Therefore, he was the only man worth going after. If she couldn’t have him then she’d just be a spinster. But that wasn’t an option. 

If she wanted to get anywhere in life, she needed someone. If she didn’t have someone, then how would she ever manage to get that archaeology degree? She wanted a nice house. A big family. That idyllic life you’d see in a Norman Rockwell painting. She couldn’t have any of that if she didn’t have him. 

Which led to the real problem. She could hook him on her looks, she could reel him in with her intelligence, but she didn’t have a single clue how to keep her grip on his gills. Maybe her pickiness did have a downside after all. Twenty two years old and she never so much as kissed a guy. And now she was thinking about forever. How was she going to plan everything out if she didn’t even know if she could satisfy him? 

A hot girl who’s a bad lay. She couldn’t think about anything more embarrassing. But maybe that was his thing? A pure, untouched, delicate flower of a– No, that made her barf just thinking of it. He wasn’t a creep, she knew that much. 

But it wasn’t like she had a time machine handy. She couldn’t reverse the clock and gain all the experience she needed to be sure. Plenty of girls had already been through this. It was just her. 

She knew what her reputation was around school. A prude. A frigid bitch. A perpetual virgin. She didn’t care. She’d rather have those boys debate whether or not she belonged to some abstinence cult than have their disgusting tongues down her throat. None of it mattered, until it did. Experience was overrated, until it wasn’t. 

And now, mere hours from this date she worked so hard to secure, she was out of time. What if he leaned over to kiss her and she just froze up? What if it wasn’t at all what she imagined it would be? She would’ve put in all this effort just for it to mean nothing. 

It wasn’t just a date, it was the gateway to her future. It was a surefire way to secure everything she needed to succeed. She couldn’t risk it. Even if she couldn’t go and make out with any boy on the street right now, that didn’t mean she didn’t have a plan. She was resourceful after all. Smart women like her always have multiple solutions. 

And after weighing the solutions, she found herself walking to Jen’s place. Jen would know what to do. She had experience with this, after all. It seemed like every single week she was talking about some new man. Not that Sue was judging her, to each their own. But maybe all those men taught her a thing or two. Maybe she could pass on that knowledge so she didn’t embarrass herself tonight. 

It wasn’t very far to walk, thank god. When Sue moved out of the city with her aunt, she just accepted that she’d have to drive a full hour if she wanted to see her friend again. But then college happened and Jen decided to find a place closer to campus, which just so happened to be in the neighborhood. 

Some friend of her cousin was lending her a room on top of the garage. Wanda, if she remembered correctly. From what Jen said, she seemed nice enough. She was letting her live there for pretty cheap, after all. But Sue didn’t know, she didn’t stay there very often. 

A part of her did feel ridiculous as she made her way down the sidewalk. Surely, she should be embarrassed that she ever thought about it. All this talk and when the time came she had to run to her friend for advice. She’d probably point that out. Tease her and all that crap. Sue had to swallow any sense of pride. This date mattered more than any of that. 

Walking up, she saw Jen in the garage. The door was wide open, giving the entire street a view of her workout. Sue couldn’t understand it. How she always put herself out there without a care in the world. Not that she was judging her. If anything, she found it quite admirable. 

“Hey, Suzie,” she called out over the pop music that was blaring on the radio. “I thought you had your hot date tonight.” 

“I do,” she confirmed as Jen set down the barbell on the concrete floor. “I just–” 

“You’re doing something before an event and the world isn’t imploding?” She quickly looked past her into the street. “I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Ha ha,” Sue rolled her eyes as she laughed at her. “No, I actually needed to ask you about something…” 

“Okay,” she motioned her to go on. 

“Well, you know how important my date with Reed is,” she started, noting the brunette’s annoyed expression at the mention of his name. 

“Gee, I don’t know, it’s just the only thing you’ve talked about for the past week,” she sighed. 

“Because, it’s important, Jen,” she repeated herself. “This one night could determine my entire future and I’m not going to take any chances.” 

“Sue, I know this is like your first date ever,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “but, it’s not going to change your fucking life. I’d be shocked if it’s the most important thing you do this month.” 

“Maybe not to you, but it is to me.” Sue defended herself. “I don’t want to mess this up. I need this and I’m afraid that if I do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing, that I’ll–”

“And what exactly am I supposed to help you with?” She walked over to get a drink of water. “You know him a hell of a lot better than I do. Do you think I just have the cheat codes?” 

“I’m not asking for talking points,” she took a deep breath and explained. “I know how to talk to him, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without it but, you know, what comes after…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I’ve not so much as held hands with a guy.” The way that Jen raised her eyebrow at her made her second guess what she was about to say. “How am I supposed to know what to do? What if he leans in and I just freeze up?” 

“What, are you asking for kissing lessons or something?” She joked, before getting a good look at her face and realizing she was being 100% serious. “Sue…” 

“If you have any other idea, I’d gladly take it,” she crossed her arms as Jen started to laugh at her. 

“I’m sorry, are we eleven?” She was trying and failing to catch her breath and calm down. “You cannot be serious right now.” 

“Well, I’m sorry that I wasn’t going around making out with every boy who looked my way in high school to prepare for the one that matters,” Sue huffed. “I just don’t want to mess this up.” 

“Okay, pause,” Jen took a few deep breaths with her hands on her knees. “Do you think he’s just going to dump you if you’re not a good kisser or something?”

“I’d feel a hell of a lot better if he didn’t have any reason to dump me.” She shrugged, trying not to let her eyes wander away from her friend's face. “I need to be perfect, I need this to go perfectly.” 

“Do you even like him, Sue?” The question made her pause for a second. 

“Of course, I like him,” despite how confident she tried to sound, she knew Jen could hear a waver in her voice. “I mean, how long have I been talking about him? You know how much I wanted this, Jen.” 

“Then why are you talking about this like it’s a job interview and not a date?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she shook her head. “It’s a date. I’m treating it like a date.” 

“No you aren’t,” Jen sighed, “you’re acting like your entire future rests on if a guy likes you or not. You never even cared about guys before, why is Reed such a big fucking deal?” 

“Because,” she gestured out as heat began to rise in her cheeks. “You know, he’s intelligent. He’s dedicated and he has his head on his shoulders. He can support me, he can give me the life I want, he–” 

“And would you still go on a date with him if he couldn’t?”

“Would I still date him if he didn’t have his attractive qualities?” She scoffed at her question. “Why does this matter? Why do you care about why I like him?” 

“Because to me it sounds like you don’t like him, you like some picture of a future you imagine him bankrolling,” Jen tried to explain. “I just don’t see how–” 

“What? So you’re calling me a golddigger?” Sue could feel herself getting mad with each passing rebuttal. 

“I’m telling you to actually think about it,” she groaned. “You’ve never thought about guys before. You’ve never so much as mentioned one before Reed came along. Is he a soulmate or are you just trying to convince yourself he’s the one? Are you picky or do you just not like men?” 

And that’s the question she’d been dreading. The question that has been in the back of her mind ever since middle school. No. That question didn’t matter anymore. It was answered six months ago. There wasn’t any need to ask it anymore. 

“I am not a lesbian, Jen!” She practically screamed out which made her friend step back. “And I don’t care what you think about my motivations. I like him. I like him so much that I went to you because I don’t want to screw this up. Isn’t that enough to prove it?” 

“Okay, have you even considered it, Sue?” she asked as if those thoughts didn’t come up so many nights when she couldn’t go to sleep. As if she didn’t know what all those boys at school really said about her. As if she didn’t remember when that one cheerleader spread that rumor in middle school. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe you only went after him because you think you’re supposed to?” 

“What does that even mean?” She shook her head. “Just because I’m not like you, doesn’t make me lesbian, okay? I do like him, why do I have to prove it to anyone?” 

“Okay, take everything about him away,” Jen tried to backtrack as the blonde girl was very clearly starting to lose it, “and just imagine having sex with him. Would you enjoy it?”  

“Because everything’s about sex,” she rolled her eyes. “How would I know? I’ve never had sex before.” 

“Well, I’m not going to help you with that part,” she shrugged. “I’m not trying to attack you, Sue. I just think that you’re trying to convince yourself that you like him.” 

“The only person who needs convincing is you,” she knew what she felt. She knew that she liked Reed. She knew how her heart skipped a beat every time she thought about him. And she was tired of Jen acting like none of that mattered. “Why can’t you just believe me?” 

“Because I know you,” she argued, stepping closer to her friend. “I know what you sound like when you’re confident. I know how you act when you’re sure of something and this isn’t it. If you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you liked him, you wouldn’t be coming to me for advice because you’d know what to do.” 

“Is it such a crime to ask for advice?!” Sue didn’t come here to be questioned. In fact, she was starting to wonder why she came here at all. “If I knew that all you’d do was argue with me and call me a lesbian because I don’t know as much as you, I would’ve just stuck with a poster.” 

“You want my advice?” Jen asked directly, staring down at her. 

“That’s the only reason I came here,” she huffed as her friend put her hands on her shoulders. “I know you think that I’m ridiculous or something, but–” 

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before Jen leaned down. Promptly cutting her off as her lips pressed against hers. Not a soft peck either. The type of kiss that she only thought existed in the movies. Passion and fervor and sparks and Sue couldn’t help but melt into her. 

Was this what she’d been missing this whole time? Was this what was awaiting her if she ever said yes to a boy? Did it always feel like this? Was she worried about nothing? Or was everyone right about her?

As much as she told herself it meant nothing when she was walking to her place, now that she was here, with Jen’s lips pressed against hers, she doubted herself. As much as she said she liked Reed, she knew his lips weren’t this soft. His chest wouldn’t feel the same when it met hers. He didn’t talk like her. He didn’t sound like her. He didn’t smell like her. He wasn’t her. 

“If you want my advice,” Jen took a second to catch her breath when they finally detached from each other, “if it feels right, you don’t have to think about it. If it feels right, then your brain would know what to do. And if you can’t imagine kissing him without freezing up, then it doesn’t feel right, Sue.” 

She didn’t have a chance to say anything before her friend started making her way to the door. She couldn’t really blame her. A part of her knew she was being nasty to her and she didn’t stop. She came for advice and didn’t listen to any she had to give. She didn’t want to hear it. 

She liked Reed. She never doubted that. At least she didn’t before today. Before she walked up to her friend and asked her to kiss her. Maybe she did have a point. 

But if she was right then certainly Sue would know, right? She wouldn’t feel anything for Reed. But was that feeling love? Was it attraction? Or was it just her projecting what she thought she should feel onto him?

“I’m just trying to say there’s no need to panic right now,” she explained as I was in the middle of fighting back a panic attack. “C’mon, let’s just go to the gas station and see if she’s there.” 

“No, I can do it,” I shook my head and reached for the keys by the door before Wanda grabbed my hand. 

“Heather, I don’t think you should be driving when you’re on the verge of a panic attack,” she reasoned, pulling me away from that small table. 

“I’m fine, it’s only a mile,” I argued as she grabbed her own keys. 

“Let me drive, okay?” She asked, walking to get both our coats. “I need to stop by my place anyway. Two birds with one stone.” 

I nodded, reaching for my tennis shoes. I wanted to believe it was nothing. Just a simple misunderstanding. But the more I thought about it, the less I believed that. I didn’t want her to go yesterday. The alarms were going off the second she told me about it. But I didn’t want to sound paranoid. 

God, I should’ve risked it. I should’ve trusted my gut. I should’ve marched over to the gas station and gave that manager a piece of my mind. Making a teenage girl work overnight when there was an active serial killer on the loose. I didn’t care how strapped for cash she thought she was, shouldn’t have taken the damn shift. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Wanda tried to reassure me as we walked to the car. “I’m sure we’ll get there and it will all make perfect sense.” 

“God, am I just going crazy?” I took a deep breath. “Am I worried about nothing?”

“Not at all,” she opened the passenger door to let me in. “She’s just a teenager, Heather. Chances are she didn’t even think about how much she’s worrying you.”

“She would’ve answered my texts,” I was still trying to convince myself I was wrong.

“She could’ve dropped her phone in the deep fryer,” she shrugged, “and the coworker ride fell through and she didn’t want to walk home while it was still dark.” 

Despite both our best efforts I knew there was nothing that could calm the voices in my head. The ones that were insisting on jumping to the worst case scenario. The ones saying that I knew this was going to happen from the start. It was inevitable. It was always going to be her. There was nothing I could do about it. 

It was just a short drive. A few minutes until all of these fears would be disproven and I could finally take a breath. Or a few minutes until I was proven right. Maybe I just needed to focus on anything else. The second Wanda turned the car on the speakers started playing some Donna Summers song. Not exactly how I was feeling but maybe that was for the better.

Only a short drive. I was just paranoid. Overreacting over nothing. We’d get there and it would all make sense. I’d look ridiculous, sure. Me looking ridiculous was better than her being kidnapped or murdered. 

Two minutes at most. Thank god this town was tiny as shit. I don’t know if I could take more of it. Wanda reached over and took the hand I was tapping on my leg. Another attempt to soothe me. To try and get me down from the anxiety attack that I had been on the verge of for the past hour. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” she repeated with a light squeeze as she pulled into the parking spot. “I’m sure it will all make sense and we can go home.” 

“Okay,” I took another deep breath before stepping out of the car. 

“I’m gonna grab something from my apartment, then I’ll be right back,” she explained, giving me a quick kiss before walking in a different direction. Leaving me alone with the glass door in front of me. I hesitated to open it. What if it wasn’t nothing? What if I walked in and my worst fears came true?

I couldn’t see her inside the store. If she was off her shift, she could’ve just been waiting in the staff room. I was probably worried over nothing. I just needed to walk in. 

The bell rang as I entered the empty store. Whoever was here must be in the back. No one else was weird enough to be here at 6am. I looked around to see if anyone else was in here. No one behind the counter, no one crouched down in the aisles, no one getting a head start in the beer cave. 

“Hello?” I tried to get whoever was on shift's attention. Looking behind the counter, trying to see if they were just lurking in a back hall. The further this went on, the worse the feeling got. 

“Can I help you?” A man asked, finally appearing after a few minutes. I could tell from his face that it’s been a bad morning. Huffed over like I was wasting his time by walking into the store. 

“Yeah, umm…” I tried to look down the hall. “Is Marrina back there? She said she’d be off at four but I haven’t–” 

“You know Marrina?”

“Yeah, she’s been staying with me,” I tried to explain as the dread was pulling at my throat. 

“Well when you see her, you can tell her she’s fired,” he said matter of factly before turning on his heels like the conversation was over. 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked after him. “She’s back there, right?”

“Listen, lady,” he sighed before turning back to me, “I don’t know who the hell you are or how you know her, but in my book when you abandon a store for god knows how long you don’t keep your job.” 

“So she isn’t here?” I tried to think of any other explanation. 

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve already told you she isn’t. I don’t know where the hell she is because she wasn’t here when anyone else got here and she isn’t answering her phone.” 

“Excuse me?” I’ve had enough of this flippant attitude. “I’m coming in here concerned about her safety and you think it’s appropriate to insult me?” 

“I really don’t give a shit why you’re here, lady,” he crossed his arms. “All you’re doing is wasting my time.” 

“You just said you don’t know where she is, right?” I waited for him to throw me a sarcastic nod. “You can’t contact her and she wasn’t here in the morning?” 

“Oh my fucking god, what do you want?” He groaned. 

“I want you to tell me why you or none of your stupid ass employees contacted the police,” I crossed my arms. “Did you not think that it seemed a bit concerning that she just seemingly disappeared into thin air when there’s a serial killer on the loose?”

“So you’re one of those people,” he let out a mocking laugh. “A teenager does something irresponsible and suddenly they were grabbed by ‘the killer.’ If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you call the police?” 

“‘One of those people,’” it took everything in me not to jump over the counter and strangle him. “Do you just not care if she lives or dies? I mean it’s clear you don’t give a shit about her safety, scheduling a teenager to work a graveyard shift, who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“If you’re so fucking concerned about her, you could be doing a lot more than arguing with me,” he dismissed everything I said. “I don’t give a shit so go tell someone who cares about what that brat got up to.” 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Wanda rushed over just when I was about to tear into him again. “Is she back there?” 

“Oh, now there’s two of them,” he mumbled under his breath.

“No and apparently she hasn’t been for god knows how long,” I tried my best to hold back my tears. 

“Okay, okay,” she grabbed my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Is there any way she could’ve gone back to her parents house?”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” I shook my head. “We talked about it, she didn’t want to go back and they didn’t want her there.” 

“Is there really nowhere else you guys could do this?” He added his two cents in. 

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you?” Wanda turned to look at him. “Can’t you see we’re having a crisis right now?” 

“I don’t care if the sun is fucking exploding,” he laughed. “I’ve had to deal with enough shit this morning without the two of you scaring off all the customers from my store.” 

“Oh, so you’re the jackass who runs this shithole?” She asked. “Newsflash buddy, but no one else is in here and one of your employees is missing.” 

“Then you two can go to the police,” he practically yelled before turning to walk to the back. But not before Wanda took a quick picture of him. 

I was still trying to get my head around everything. She wasn’t here. No one knew where she was. I knew this was going to happen. Right from the start. How could it not be? I put a target on her back. She was never safe with me. And now she was missing. 

“Take a deep breath, Heather,” she tried to talk me through what was now a full blown panic attack. “We can fix this, you just need to calm down.” 

“It’s my fault,” I managed to choke out through short breaths. “I never should’ve let her– I’m the whole reason he ever went after her.” 

“Shh, shh, that’s not true, Heather,” Wanda pulled me into a hug. All of her efforts were in vain. Nothing could soothe me, nothing could calm me down. Marrina wasn’t here. She was in danger if she wasn’t already dead. “Even if you told her not to go last night, you know she wouldn’t have listened to you.” 

“I need to find evidence,” I said as she continued to tighten the hug. As if the squeezing was doing anything for the mental state. “Proof that she was taken or they’ll never believe me.” 

Deep down I knew it was no use. Despite anything I could bring in, I was looking for a fight. For the past month, I’ve been wondering why. Why everything I did was dismissed. Why all my efforts were met with nothing but annoyance and apathy. But I understood it now. 

It was never about me. Nothing I did would never be good enough. The closer that I got to the case, the more push back I would get. Madison’s whole goal was to push this under the rug. The more people involved, the worse it made him look. But some things mattered more than his guilty conscience. More than his pride and more than whatever family drama got us in this mess in the first place. 

“If it happened anywhere…” I started to think out loud as I got out of her grip. I was the best chance she had so I had to get my shit together. Despite what so many people didn’t want me to believe, I was a good detective. “It wouldn’t be in here. Too bright, too many cameras, too many opportunities to be caught.” 

I rushed out the door as Wanda followed right after me. Where could she have been that made her an easy target? Outside for a break? No, she would’ve stayed inside. Was she lured out? Maybe he had done something concerning to get her out of the store? Or maybe there was a simpler explanation. 

“Dumpsters!” I yelled before running around to the back of the building. It’s so obvious. He must’ve struck while she was taking out the trash. In an alley where it was dark, where no one had the chance to see anything. It was a fucking cliche and it was the only thing that made sense. 

“Heather!” She called out after me as I rounded the corner. “What are you looking for exactly?” 

“Proof that she was taken,” I explained as I opened the lid of that large blue bin. “If I don’t have anything, they’d never take this seriously. If we’re gonna do something about this, they have to take this seriously.” 

“You were saying last night that you know who’s doing it,” she caught up to me right as I was leaning into the dumpster. “Wouldn’t that be enough?” 

“Nope,” I sighed. Nothing was jumping out in the piles of trash bags. “Madison knows it’s his brother too. That’s why he’s been interfering with it.” 

“I don’t understand,” she said as I hopped down. “Why would he try to sabotage the case and let him kill innocent people?” 

“Because if he’s telling the truth in those letters, he knows something that Madison is desperately trying to hide,” I dropped to the ground. Maybe there was something under the dumpster? “If he’s not, then maybe he’s trying to hide the fact he has an insane serial killer as a brother.” 

“What letters?” 

“He’s been leaving letters,” I explained. “Sending them into the station, leaving them around town like he’s the Riddler, he even sent one to me directly. They’re all written in code, that’s what the email was about.” 

“Oh, shit…” She mumbled out, reaching for something in her jacket pocket. “Like this?” 

I looked up from my position on the ground to see her pulling out a folded piece of paper. I opened it as she handed it over to me. My heart sank right into my stomach. 

“It– it was slid under my door,” she started to explain, trying not to trip over her words. “I thought it was just some dumb prank one of my colleagues set up, I never imagined that–” 

“He was here last night,” I said, shoving the letter into my own pocket. I wasn’t insane. I wasn’t overreacting. This was deliberate targeting. “He was here and he took her.” 

I turned back to the dumpster. There had to be something. Something that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wasn’t just panicking. Something that they couldn’t just dismiss. A piece of fabric, a tuft of hair, a fingernail, anything that proved that she was here. That there was a struggle. 

“Hey, look at this,” Wanda called out from the other side of the dumpster. Covering her hand with her sleeve before leaning down to pick it up. “This is her phone, right?” 

I looked over to see her holding a smashed phone up, careful to not get any finger prints on it. That airbrushed hibiscus case was cracked right down the middle. It was completely destroyed. It was undeniably hers. 

I couldn’t lie, part of me found it sweet. Even when she was sleeping, completely unconscious, she still wanted to be close to me. Like it wasn’t even a choice, just this pull she felt towards me. 

I knew I should try to go back to sleep. I didn’t have to see a clock to know it was far too early to be awake. Story of my life for the last month. But while I’d usually cut my losses and just start my day, I had something stopping me. I didn’t want to wake Wanda up at whatever this absurd time was. 

If I did accidentally wake her up, she’d probably just drag me right back into bed. No matter how insistent I was that I couldn’t go back to sleep, I couldn’t compete with her iron will. She was just following her instructions, after all. If Marrina caught wind that she let me out of bed before the sun started to peak over the hills, she’d never trust her again. 

But that sacred duty didn’t matter. I was wide awake and in desperate need of some water. Surely, she wouldn’t notice if I just snuck down for a few minutes. I just had to be smart about it. Not make too much of a ruckus as I slowly shifted towards the edge of the bed. 

I was extremely cautious, waiting to hear if she was stirring. Then moving every so slightly. Repeating as many times I needed until I was out of her grasp. Still, I wasn’t in the clear. What might be the hardest part was still ahead of me. I had to get off the bed without getting caught. 

The bed would noticeably shift when I finally hopped off of it. It might be enough to wake her up. Then I’d be caught red handed. But if I was careful, I knew I could pull it off. 

I couldn’t help but stare at her. Sleeping so soundly. Her soft breaths were almost rhythmic. Even with most of her hidden under the covers, she still looked as beautiful as ever. Completely captivating and here I was trying to get away from her. 

I let out a hiss as my feet touched the floor before slapping my hand over my mouth. Even with all my planning, I failed to consider the fact the hardwood would be cold as shit. I watched her as she started to shift, letting out a snore. There was no way I could move. 

It felt like forever before I determined that I was in the clear. That I hadn’t woken her up and I could continue my journey downstairs. It was going to be a quick one. Just a simple drink and then I’d be right back. Still, it was cold as shit and it was only going to get colder in the kitchen. Grabbing my long cardigan was only logical. 

Taking small steps, I slowly made my way out of the bedroom. Hyper conscious not to step on any squeaky floorboards. It seemed like an impossible task as I started down the stairs. After all this was over, I was going to fix them. Even if it took a few days of not being able to access the second floor. 

God, when this was over. Would it even be the same? Could I walk into the station and go about my day? Would I ever have a peaceful night again? There was something in my gut telling me that this was never going to be over. That this was a deep stain that I’ll never be able to wash out of my mind. 

I didn’t need to be thinking about this right now. All I needed was to get that glass of water, chug it down, and get back to bed before Wanda even noticed I was gone. I knew better than to assume that I could fall asleep again but maybe just laying next to her was a good enough replacement. 

There was a cup already on the counter, as if I had already planned this. Maybe my latent laziness had its benefits at times. I grabbed the orange glass, feeling the frigid impressions of the patterns against my hand. God, it was cold down here. 

I turned on the faucet and set it to cold. Would take a few moments to get to an enjoyable temperature. Just enough to grab some ice cubes from the freezer. I padded over, still wincing every time my feet hit the floor. Grabbing slippers or even just socks would’ve been the smart move. Oh well, it was only a short trip. 

But as I went to open that top door of my fridge, my eyes locked onto the object that I had completely forgotten about. I guess Wanda’s plan worked after all. But now as I looked at my laptop, sitting comfortably just out of my reach. 

Wanda was still asleep. Marrina wouldn’t be off for another few hours. If I didn’t seize this opportunity, I might not have another one until I went back to work on Monday. It was in the best interest of everyone in town to look at the emails. 

“Fuck it,” I mumbled to myself, putting ice cubes inside of the cup. Only made it colder to the touch. Rushing over to finally fill the cup and quench my thirst. At this point, I was just wasting water. 

I took a long sip of water, almost emptying half the glass. Filling the rest up just in case before heading over to the table. Giving my hands a rest before they started to freeze and get stuck to the side of the glass. I was quite fond of that set and if my skin peeled off onto the side then I’d just have to throw it away. 

I grabbed a dining chair before going right back to the fridge. Still trying to make as little noise as possible. One wrong move and I’ll be caught red handed. Then I’d for sure be dragged up back to bed. The risk didn’t matter, I had work to do. 

Just a quick look to see if there was anything. If the letters didn’t matter as much as I imagined they would, I’d go right back up and they’d be none the wiser. If they did have something, I’d have every reason to take these baby gates down. 

I wouldn’t know unless I looked. I’ve been trying to do it all day after all. Who would I be if I just squandered this opportunity? With my laptop firmly placed under my arm, I carried the chair back to the table. 

The chair cushion was unsurprisingly cold against the back of my thighs. My fault for thinking that boxer shorts were sufficient sleepwear this time of year. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t going to stop me as I opened my laptop. Greeted by that familiar field of purple wildflowers I set my lockscreen to all those years ago. 

I typed in my password and the speakers let out a little chime. The nice view was replaced by the boring one of my emails. The one I was looking for still sat unopened. Highlighted right along with some email from the grocery store in Westpoint saying something about weekly deals on ice cream. Now, nothing was stopping me from opening it. 

Detective McNeil, 

Apologies about the late message, there were delays with the last letter due to an increased workload. Normally, I wouldn’t be sending this type of message but I wanted to personally make sure that the contents of the letters got to you. I’d also like to apologize again for the actions of Dr. Eisner the other day, I guarantee her general attitude problems have nothing to do with you or your colleague specifically. 

Best of luck, 

Dr. Carter Engles-Croft, Forensics. 

And after that, four separate pdfs attached. Each one clearly labeled with the date they were added to whatever database they had down there. February 2nd, February 4th, February 12th, and finally, February 18th. 

“Eighteen days wasted,” I mumbled to myself as I downloaded the first letter. Let out a heavy sigh as I had to wait for it to load. Might as well download the others preemptively. Nothing else to do besides take another sip of my water as I waited for my computer to do what it was supposed to. Probably just felt longer than it actually was before I heard that ping that meant I could finally look at what I had been trying to all fucking day. 

It’s just such a shame, Madison. You’ve been lying to everyone this whole time. They have no idea who you actually are. 

“Well, there’s a motive,” I leaned back and tried not to slam my palm down on the table. This shit would’ve been extremely helpful eighteen days ago. They were after Madison this whole fucking time. Why they were was an entirely different problem. Luckily I had three more chances to figure that out. 

Do you have any idea that the person you trust so much is leading this town to ruin, Heather? How many more will go missing before he admits what he’s done? 

Evidently, that was the one that ended up on my porch. But it just made me more confused. Admit what he’s done? What possible transgression could he have committed that would cause someone to become the fucking Joker? Of course, it could just be the ramblings of an insane person. No matter what Madison did, it wouldn’t justify all the murders that happened. 

After all this time it should be clear now. So tell me, Madison, what happened to Roger Bochs?

“Roger Bochs,” I repeated in an attempt to commit it to memory. There was something there. There had to be. Maybe the whole reason this was happening in the first place. Enough reason to dig in further. Enough to say that I surely won’t get any more sleep tonight. 

But before I started following this lead, getting muddled in old newspaper archives and nonsensical google searches, I still had one more letter to look at. 

The longer you keep the truth to yourself, the more people will die. Every second you wait is another person you let down, just like you let me down. How can you ever be the town's keeper when you couldn’t manage to be your brother’s? 

The last line slammed my brain with multiple flashbacks from childhood. From the bible story that my parents would always use whenever I got tired of looking after all my siblings. The one they used to convince me I was selfish and bratty and unholy for being a child and wanting to have literally one minute for myself. 

Two brothers. One rageful and one holy. One angry and one righteous. One holding a rock and the other one dead. Cain and Abel. The story of how humans came to know death. There were times I thought it only made sense for the first murder to be a fratricide. My parents might have cut out my tongue for saying it but sometimes I couldn’t help but understand Cain. 

What I didn’t understand was the framing of this letter. The killer obviously put themself in the position of Abel. Thought of themselves as righteous and godly and wronged despite the extreme violence that they were inflicting themself with the sole goal of getting back at Madison. 

What could’ve happened to justify this in their mind? For them to kill three girls and still believe that they were innocent and Madison was guilty? That was the real question I needed to crack. And they gave me a pretty good lead too. 

I opened another tab and typed it in. I didn’t think I’d get much for a simple google search of some name I’ve never heard of but it would be idiotic not to try. If this case had a prayer in the world, I had to try. 

The only thing that I found with any sort of relevance was buried on the third page. An archive for some small town newspaper in Ontario. ‘Local teen found dead after disappearing three days ago,’ dated 23 years ago. 

I started by skimming it. Looking for anything that might explain the relevance to this case. Roger Bochs was found dead at the base of some steep hill about half a mile from a hiking trail in the woods. The police suspected foul play and are currently interrogating people who were close to him. No names mentioned but from the letters I could only assume that Madison and the killer were both involved. 

I searched through the site this time. There must be something more documented about this. Surely there isn’t just one article written about a suspected murder. And it didn’t take too much longer to find something else. 

‘Suspect arrested on alleged murder of Roger Bochs’

“Why couldn’t that have shown up first?” I sighed as my eyes continued to scan the words against the harsh light. Felt like this was a lot more relevant especially considering his name was in the article title. I could read the story later, all I really needed were names. 

Teen Lionel Jefferies was brought in on Tuesday, April 15th after a witness confessed to seeing him on the trail around the time of Roger’s disappearance

Bingo. The name was all I needed. Typing that into the website only gave more articles. ‘Lionel Jefferies charged with murder’, ‘Lionel Jefferies pleads insanity’, ‘Judge sentences Lionel Jefferies to life in a psychiatric facility.’ The titles gave me all I needed to know. 

If the letters were to be believed, there was more to this story than the articles contained. At least he believed that Madison was somewhat responsible for something he seemingly took all the fall for. If I had to guess, he believed that Madison set him up. Lied about what happened that day to make him look more guilty than he really was. 

But if he was sentenced to life in a psychiatric facility somewhere in Ontario, how was he over here committing these murders? I quickly opened another tab and searched his name. 

‘Convicted lunatic escaped from Our Mother Mary psychiatric hospital’ 

Dated November 18th of last year. Just enough for the timelines to line up. Just enough to be sure that I wasn’t wrong. Just enough for everything to make sense. Just enough for me to understand everything that’s been going on. 

He knew. From the first letter if not the first day. Those letters never got lost, he was withholding them to cover his own ass. He was interfering with the investigation and made us think we were the incompetent ones. Now it made sense why he was at the cannery. He was trying to solve this issue under the table. Trying to hide whatever involvement he might have in this case. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” A voice came from behind me as I felt arms wrap around my collarbone. “And you aren’t supposed to be working either.” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I sighed, grabbing Wanda’s hand. Caught red handed. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“That doesn’t explain why you left me up there all alone,” she tutted, “or why you decided to get your laptop out at 2:30 in the morning.”

“Well, maybe if you guys let me do this at a reasonable time,” I shrugged.

“You just happen to be a very unreasonable lady,” she kissed the top of her head. “Well tell me, miss detective, did you solve the case?” 

“Something like that,” I sighed, still looking at that article that illuminated the screen. 

“Really?” Wanda laughed, clearly not believing me. “What great secrets did those emails entail?”