Rite--Chapter One

                  Heather Andrews woke up sweating, her head pounding painfully. She had just had the most peculiar dream, yet she could not remember what it had been about. Her whole body hurt, and she felt as if she had been running for miles. She sat up in her bed, shrouded in darkness. Comforting darkness. Glancing over towards the clock resting on her bedside table, she read that it was exactly eleven o’clock in the morning. Grumbling, she lay back down on the bed, and stared up at nothing. Her bedroom had no window, so no matter what time of day it was, her room was always dark, and she liked it that way.  It made it easy for her to sleep whenever she wanted. Besides, the sunlight made her eyes hurt. It was a large room, with hardly anything in it at all. The bed upon which she lay was not very large, but extremely comfortable.
         Her head sinking into an equally as comfortable pillow, Heather closed her eyes. It was the third of August, she thought to herself. Since, of course, yesterday had been the second. Today was going to be a good day, she knew, because it was her day off, and she could lay here in her darkness for as long as she wanted. Which proved to be not very long.
Heather sat up, and swung her legs off the bed. She hit her shin on something in the dark, and gasped out in surprise again. Every morning, she hit that same leg on that same stand beside her bed. Her hand slid down her leg to rub that same spot. The feeling of her hand rubbing through the green cotton of her pants was strangely relaxing. Using her other hand, Heather felt around the stand, until she found what she was looking for. With a soft click, the lamp came on, filling the room with yellow light, but only enough for her to see where she was going.
         Her day off. What was she going to do today? She thought about it as she stood up and walked to the left wall, towards the one door out of three that lead into the bathroom. It was very rarely she took a day off...the girl that takes her place on those days is VERY unreliable and clumsy; not someone Heather wants running her bar. But, Heather didn’t have the heart to fire the poor girl, who was not much younger than Heather herself.
         ‘Second Star to the Right’, was the name of the bar Heather’s father had once owned. Why it was named that was unknown to Heather, and forever will be. She had never known her father to be into Peter Pan, and the bar happened to be on the left side of the street, when entering the city. But she loved it there, and as far as she knew, the people there loved her. Of course, if everyone knew she was only nineteen, there might be some problems. Therefore, no one over the age of twenty ever found out.
         Opening the door, Heather walked into the small blue bathroom. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and followed up with a funny face. Giggling, Heather turned on the sink, and searched the bathroom for a cloth. Washing her face was Heather’s plan, and she figured she might brush her teeth as well, depending on what was for breakfast. If was going to be good, she will have some, and brush later. If not, she’ll just brush now. It then occurred to Heather that in order to find out what was for breakfast, she would have to go out and check. So, shrugging, she decided to brush her teeth now anyway.
         Heather looked in the mirror and smiled at herself once again. She loved her smile, so she smiled a lot. Heather had creamy, medium coloured skin, and long dark brown hair. Un-brushed, her hair looked like a tangled mess, but when she did brush it, she knew it would look amazing. Heather knew she was pretty, but tried to not make a deal about it. Yet even though she loved her looks, she hated her eyes. Her dark brown eyes (“Spanish eyes”, her father used to call them) had been an inheritance from her mother, and Heather felt they made her look like she was on drugs. She felt as if her eyes made her less pretty.
         Naturally, everyone else loved her eyes.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Her mother used to tell her, “quit moaning about them, and smile. Make them shine.” Heather felt her lip tremble as her mother’s voice echoed through her mind, but the moment passed quickly, and soon Heather was smothering her face with a wet washcloth.
         Stepping out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, her face washed and teeth brushed, Heather went back to her bed and sat. She tried to remember the dream she had woken up from earlier. Closing her eyes, she focused on the pain she had felt not too long ago.
         ‘I will forgive you...’          She could pull no pictures out from her mind. Only the voice: faint, and muffled. Confused, she stood back up, and decided she would let it be. It was, after all, just a dream.
         “Just a dream,” she confirmed for herself aloud, before exiting her bedroom. As soon as Heather opened her door she could smell eggs, bacon, and toast. Two eggs at that, along with one slice of toast, and four strips of bacon. She knew the routine well. Quite often was the same breakfast prepared for her, and Heather never grew tired of it.
         “Good morning,” a voice from the kitchen called. Heather smiled. She loved that voice. Her best friend had that kind of soft and quiet, yet strong voice that people adore. Many times previously people have asked her if she sang. Heather had never heard the girl sing in her life.
         “Kaaaylaa…” Heather rang cheerfully. She crossed the living room and entered the small, sad excuse for a kitchen, and sat at the two-person table. Her place was already set: Two eggs, a slice of toast, four strips of bacon, and orange juice. Classic. Across the table, Kayla Foster sat in her place. She had giggled silently when Heather rang her name; she loved it when Heather did that. She loved a lot of the things Heather did. She didn’t even have a problem with the things Heather didn’t do.
         “You’re not hungry?” Heather asked, breaking her yolks. Kayla had not set herself a place. She shook her head.
         “No. I’m not hungry.” In truth, Kayla felt sick. The previous night had been a sleepless one. She was kept awake by her refusal to dream. Her dreams had been all the same lately, and they made her nervous. Unlike Heather, Kayla always remembered her dreams, as well as the details she wished not to ever discuss.
         Heather smiled at her, and ate. She had learned long ago not to press on about Kayla’s habits and moods. She was, and had forever been, a very private person.
         ‘We couldn’t run away...’ Again, Heather heard a voice from her dream. She dropped her fork, and sat silently. Once more, she tried to pull out more memory of her dream, with no success. Kayla started at her.
         “Is everything okay?” Kayla asked, whispering. Heather shook her head quickly, and began to eat again.
         “Of course everything is okay.”
         “You looked scared.”
         “Did I?”
         “Yes.” Kayla started to make Heather nervous.
         “I just had some deja vu, that’s all,” Heather lied. Kayla had caught the annoyance in her voice, so she dropped it.
         “When do you work today?” Heather asked, hoping to change the subject.
         Never. I was fired. “They decided last minute to give me a day off,” Kayla answered. She had been a waitress at a fancy restaurant on Main Street. Le Happiness, it was called, and it always bothered her that the owners had two languages in such a simple name. Kayla had been fired the previous evening for her clumsiness. She wasn’t a clumsy person, and she hadn’t been that night. She had just been tired. However, she wasn’t about to tell Heather that she had lost her job. Heather nodded, and took a gulp of her orange juice.
         “Right on, we can spend the day together,” Heather suggested. Kayla shrugged.
         “Maybe. I have to do a few things first.”
         “Like?”
         “Well, we’re out of some stuff...I need to run out and pick them up.”
         “Oh. Well, I could do that.” Kayla shook her head. She knew how Heather enjoyed being home alone, if only for a few moments. Besides, Heather could never remember what to get. Kayla said so. Heather laughed, nearly upsetting her juice.
         “That’s not true, you tell me to get milk, and I come home with that.”
         “Well, we often need more than just milk. Milk does us no good when I have to do the dishes,” Kayla stated, rolling her eyes. “Speaking of that…” She stood up, and started to gather up Heather’s dishes. Heather quickly protested.
         “Go away,” Kayla laughed, shoving Heather out of the kitchen, “no more broken dishes!”
         Heather shrugged, seating herself on the small sofa in the living room. The room’s walls were a dark cream colour, and the sunlight shone in through the balcony doors, warming and lighting up the apartment. Heather winced at the light, and turned to the sofa. She noticed a basket filled with folded laundry on the cushions. Laundry that she had promised to take care of. Heather sighed, and called out to Kayla.
         “I said I would do it.”
         “I know...but I decided I would.”
         “But last night? Kayla!”
         “Look, I couldn’t sleep!” Kayla stated harshly, and Heather went silent. The sound of dishes clattering roughly jumped Heather, and she then regretted saying anything. She knew that Kayla didn’t sleep well. She knew she should just let her be. Let her do what she wanted. Heather almost felt saved when the phone rang. She jumped up quickly to answer it, and didn’t even read the phone to see whom it was.
         “Hey,” she said once she picked up the phone. A small giggle replied. She recognized it immediately. It was Camryn.
         “Hey Heather! What are you doing there?”
         “It’s my day off,” Heather looked towards the kitchen. It was silent in there.
         “Oh, is it? Well. Um, what’s Kayla doing?”
         “Nothing,” Heather said, and it was probably true. “Why?”
         “Oh, no reason, I guess.” Camryn was hiding something from her. Heather could feel it. Whenever she gave that as a reply, it always meant that Camryn was hiding something. Of course, it had something to do with Kayla. Camryn Marsh was part of what kept Heather and Kayla together, and she knew it. Whenever Kayla had something to say, she told Camryn. Kayla never had the spirit to tell Heather, and Camryn would be the one to hint the problems to Heather, who then fixed them. Unfortunately, it was the same thing with Heather. Whenever Camryn called to talk to Kayla, it always meant there was some discussion going on Heather wasn’t supposed to know about. Sometimes about her, but other times, Heather knew, about...other things. There was only so much Heather could do.
         “Heather?”
         “Hmm?” Heather shook out of her reverie.
         “I said: I’ll let you go.”
         “Oh. Wait, why?”
         “What?”
         “Why let me go? You just called!”
         “Well I, you know.”
Heather said nothing.
         “I shouldn’t really be calling. You know how it is here.” Heather nodded. Camryn worked for a newspaper as a reporter’s assistant and photographer. She was always busy: when she wasn’t out with her camera taking pictures of a story, she was at the office fetching coffee for her employer.
         “Heather?”
         “I nodded.”
         “Oh.”
         “So, we’re here all day. Give us a call?”
         “You bet. Talk to you later, Heather.” She hung up the phone. Only for a moment, did it occur to Heather that Camryn didn’t ask why Kayla was home.
         “Heather? I’m going out now.” Heather spun around. Kayla was already at the door, ready to leave. Her eyes were dark. Heather nodded.
         “Okay, see you.” Kayla opened the door, and left quickly. Heather held her breath until the door clicked shut, and then fell over into the cushions.

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Kayla hurried down the hallway, ignoring the people around her. She couldn’t wait to get outside; she needed fresh air. She felt bad for snapping at Heather, but she couldn’t help it. Why did Heather have to be so curious? What did it matter that Kayla did the laundry? She reached the elevator, and pressed the button for the main floor. Kayla had done the laundry because she had to do something. She couldn’t sit up all night without keeping herself occupied. But how could she explain that to Heather? She could explain that to Camryn easy. She could explain a lot to Camryn.
         Kayla had had a dream while she was in the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time she had had that dream, but it was the first time she’d had it while she was awake. That bothered her. They were starting to get longer, clearer, and more persistent. Furthermore, today it had been clearer than ever. She could see and feel everything, as if it was truly happening, and she hadn’t been at all confused.
         She had been in a large, dark room—a cold room. The walls were stone, and she had known where she was. She was in the basement of a very large house. She had started walking forward, and the more she walked, the more the room lit up. Before long, she could see that she was walking towards an altar, and candles—dozens of them—surrounded her. Sitting in front of the altar was a girl. She was crying. Kayla had started to cry too.
         In reality, the elevator opened up, and Kayla went inside. There were a few more people in there with her, but she ignored them too.
         ‘Kayla, I’m sorry,’ the girl had said. Kayla had shaken her head, and knelt down to hold her, but as she did so, blood started to appear on the girl’s hands.
         ‘Why did you leave me?’ The girl started screaming at her, and it was usually around that time when Kayla woke up. However, this time, she hadn’t. Instead, she had to watch as the ground opened up before her, swallowing the altar. A pair of hands had reached out, pulling the girl into the engulfing darkness. Kayla had sat there, not being able to save her.
         What had scared Kayla most about the dream was, the girl had been Heather.